ACROSS 
THE  PLAINS 


tlOif  M  S»  COL^IwI  mf:> 


mmmmmmi 


Digitized  by  the  Internet  Ai-chive 

in  2007  witii  funding  from 
p«      IVIicrosoft  Corporation 


Iittp://www.arcliive.org/details/acrossplainsin6400collricli 


<P-^S^ 


JOHN  S.  COLLINS 


Across  the  Plains  in  '64 


-^^^ 


Incidents  of  Early  Days  West  of  the  Missouri  River 
— Two  Thousand  Miles  in  an  Open  Boat  From 
Fort  Benton  to  Omaha — Reminiscences  of 
THE  Pioneer  Period  of  Galena,  Gen- 
eral Grant's  Old  Home. 


-^K^ 


By  JOHN  S.  COLLINS. 


-^e^ 


OMAHA,    NEBRASKA. 

NATIONAL   PRINTING   COMPANY. 

1904. 


COPYRIGHT   BY 

JOHN  8.  COLLINS 


TO  THE   RECIPIENTS  OF  THIS  VOLUME 

Yielding  to  the  continued  solicitation  of  his  friends,  after  the 
first  volume  of  "Across  the  Plains  in  '64"  was  published,  Mr. 
John  S.  Collins  finally  decided  to  add  to  the  volume  several  of 
the  more  noteworthy  happenings  which  were  a  part  of  his 
remarkably  adventurous  life  in  the  real  west,  before  railroads 
had  made  transcontinental  travel  easy.  When  most  of  the 
manuscript  had  been  prepared  it  was  deemed  best  to  incorporate 
the  first  volume  and  the  latter  additions  in  one  volume.  Mr. 
Collins'  sudden  death  upset  all  plans  for  the  production  of  the 
new  volume  at  the  time  he  had  decided  to  publish  it. 

But.  acting  upon  the  impulse  to  carry  out  the  wishes  of  their 
uncle,  just  as  if  he  were  with  them,  the  nephews  and  nieces  of 
Mr.  Collins  decided  to  have  the  new  volume  published  as  a 
memorial  to  their  uncle  who  had  done  a  pioneer's  share  in  the 
taming  of  the  wilderness. 

The  relatives  of  Mr.  Collins  who  have  made  it  possible  that 
this  hitherto  unwritten  history  of  the  west  shall  remain  a  lasting 
monument  to  his  memory,  are  in  possession  of  scores  of  letters 
from  distinguished  men  and  women  who  received  the  first  volume 
from  its  author,  which  commend  in  unstinted  measure  their 
pleasure  at  receiving  such  a  gift.  Probably  there  are  few  volumes 
which  have  been  so  highly  commended  by  "the  men  of  the 
country"  for  truthfulness  and  real  merit.  One  of  the  fore  most 
literary  journals  in  America  compared  the  first  volume  with 
the  works  of  Francis  Parkman,  which  it  resembled  in  many 
particulars. 

The  undersigned,  who  had  charge  of  the  editing  of  Mr- 
Collins'  manuscript,  has  lefi  it  just  as  it  was  written  by  him,  the 
work  of  editing  concerning  almost  entirely  punctuation  and 
capitalization.  Mr.  Collins  made  no  pretense  to  literary  style- 
He  had  been  a  business  man  all  his  life  and  he  has  prepared  such 
a  volume  as  a  business  man  who  had  a  remarkable  memory 
would  write.  R.  F.   G. 

Omaha,  Neb.,  January,  1911. 


ILLUSTRATIONS 

Cover  Design By  Doane  Powell 

Frontispiece  (Part  I) John  S.  Collins 

Frontispiece  (Part  II)  "Five  Terrors  of  the  Wind  River  Range" 

Three  Days'  Kill Opposite  page  61,  Part  II 

Bat  and  the  Bear  Skins Opposite  page  64,  Part  II 

Indians  in  Camp Opposite  page  64,  Part  II 

Leaving  Fort  Fetterman Opposite  page  66,  Part  II 

Bunched  Up  in  the  Road Opposite  page  66,  Part  II 

Crossing  the  Platte Opposite  page  66,  Part  II 

"Antelope  Very  Cunning" Opposite  page  76,  Part  II 

Ready  for  the  Hunt Opposite  page  82,  Part  II 

"Fussin'  "  About  Camp Opposite  page  86,  Part  II 

Author's  Keys  Which  Went  Through  San  Francisco 

Earthquake  and  Fire Opposite  page  139,  Part  II 


DEDICATION. 

This  little  book  is  dedicated  to  the  memory  of  James 
McNear,  my  companion,  friend  and  guide,  on  my  trip  Across 
The  Plains  In  '64,  and  down  the  Missouri  river  in  an  open 
boat  from  Fort  Benton  to  Omaha,  two  thousand  miles.  No 
more  loyal  man  ever  lived.  His  bravery  was  never  ques- 
tioned.    He  was  a  true  man  and  a  sincere  friend. 

JOHN  S.  COLLINS. 


PREFACE. 

At  the  request  of  members  of  my  family  and  inti- 
mate friends,  I  have  briefly  sketched  some  of  my 
experiences  in  the  West,  before  the  days  of  the  railroad. 
This  little  book  is  intended  for  private  circulation.  I 
have  made  no  effort  to  give  the  sketches  a  literary 
dress.  I  have  only  attempted  to  relate  from  diary  and 
memory,  in  a  matter  of  fact  way,  a  number  of  inter- 
esting incidents,  which,  in  the  hands  of  an  experi- 
enced writer  would,  in  my  opinion,  furnish  material 
for  an  interesting  volume. 

John  S.  Collins. 

Omaha,  Nebraska,  1904. 


CONTENTS. 

Dedication    3 

Preface    5 

Across  the  Plains  in  '64 9 

Notes  by  the  Way   36 

A  Fresh-Killed  Moose  38 

A  Rich  Clean-Up   39 

Fast    Staging 40 

The  Gold  Miner's  Market  41 

A  Mountain  Sheep  Head   41 

Two  Thousand  Miles  in  an  Open  Boat 44 

A  Herd  of  Mules  59 

About  an  Army  Post  Tradership 65 

Hunting  Big  Game  with  a  Military  Escort 69 

If  You  Don't  Pray  Before  You  Eat,  You  Won't  Steal  73 

The  Sioux  Indian  Commission   'j^ 

A  Feast  with  Spotted  Tail  84 

Council  with   the  Yanctonais    86 

Burial  of  the  Daughter  of  American  Horse 90 

A  Brave  Indian    91 

A  Hunting  Trip  with  Carl  Schurz,  Webb  C.  Hayes, 

AND   Artist    Gaullier    96 

The  Hunter's   Paradise    100 

Hunting  Big  Game  with  a  Pack  Train 114 

The   Scout    122 

''Crazy    Horse"   Bones    134 

Vagabonding  with  a  General  Manager 136 

Galena,  Illinois,  General  Grant's  Old  Home  139 

The  Mettle  of  Grant  150 


ACROSS  THE  PLAINS  IN  '64. 

From  My  Diary. 

JOHN  S.  COLLINS. 

A  certain  interest  zmll  ahvays  attach  to  the  record 
of  that  which  passed  away,  never  to  return." — Francis 
Parkman. 

Council  Bluffs  was  a  better  outfitting  point  for  emi- 
grants in  '64  than  Omaha.  March  23rd  I  crossed  the 
Missouri  river  on  the  steam  ferry  with  six  two  and 
four  mule  teams,  loaded  with  merchandise  for  the 
gold  mines  of  Virginia  City.  At  Council  Bluffs  there 
came  to  me  an  honest,  rough  looking  fellow  with  a 
note  from  a  friend  in  Dubuque,  Iowa.  It  read:  "I 
send  you  Jim  McNear;  take  him  along;  he  is  'true 
blue'  and  'all  sand.* "  No  better  recommendation 
could  be  given  a  man  in  those  pioneer  days.  So  Jim 
was  placed  in  charge  of  my  tents  and  cooking. 

Ferriage  from  Council  Bluffs  to  Omaha  was  $1.00 
for  one  wagon  and  one  span,  and  twenty-five  cents 
per  head  for  loose  stock.  At  Omaha  I  met  my  father, 
Eli  A.  Collins,  and  my  brother,  Gilbert  H.  Collins. 

A  fine  prospect  opened  here  for  business,  and  on 
March  23rd,  my  brother  and  myself  entered  into  co- 
partnership under  the  firm  name  of  G.  H.  &  J.  S.  Col- 
lins, Gilbert  H.  going  east  to  purchase  a  stock  of  lea- 
ther and  saddlery  goods.  The  same  day  I  left  Omaha 
for  the  "west,"  cutting  across  lots  from  Fourteenth  and 


10  Across  the  Plains 

Douglas  streets  and  camping  under  the  "Big  Elms" 
at  the  Military  bridge. 

The  Mormons  on  their  westward  march  held  regu- 
lar Sunday  services  under  these  trees.  Twenty-fourth 
and  Cuming  streets  now  mark  the  spot.  Johnson's 
army  crossed  the  Military  bridge  in  1853  to  fight  the 
Mormons  at  Great  Salt  lake. 

We  traveled  the  old  Military  road  from  Omaha. 
Snow  and  rain  made  the  roads  heavy,  and  travel  slow, 
March  24th  we  camped  at  the  Elkhorn  river.  Ferriage 
was  fifty  cents  per  wagon.  Loose  stock  was  led  and 
driven.  Raw  Hide  creek  was  our  next  camp.  Paw- 
nee Indians  came  down  on  us  by  the  dozen.  It  was 
their  custom  to  find  emigrant  camps  all  along  the 
Platte,  and  beg.  They  had  noses  like  a  pointer  dog. 
They  manifested  no  unfriendly  disposition,  but  show- 
ed a  fondness  for  our  tin  cups,  pans,  knives  and  every- 
thing in  this  line  they  could  pick  up  and  conceal  under 
their  blankets.  From  the  Raw  Hide  to  Fremont,  then  a 
village  of  two  to  three  hundred  inhabitants,  white 
tail  deer  were  frequently  seen  in  the  tall  grass.  Be- 
tween Fremont  and  Columbus  there  was  very  little 
settlement.  There  were  only  a  few  ranches  where  hay 
and  shelter  for  animals  could  be  had  for  fifty  cents 
to  $1.00  per  span  over  night. 

If  you  did  not  patronize  these  ranches  the  alterna- 
tive was  to  camp  where  you  could  and  wake  up  in  the 
morning  to  find  one  or  two  head  of  stock  gone.  This 
necessitated  "laying  over"  a  day  or  two.  The  stray 
stock  was  sometimes  found  in  the  corral  of  the  ranch- 
man with  a  charge  of  $5.00  to  $10.00  for  recovering 
it. 


Across  the  Plains  It 

West  of  Columbus  we  crossed  the  Loup  Fork  river, 
full  of  running  ice.  The  ferry  boat  had  sunk  and  the 
stream  was  too  deep  and  swift  to  ford.  So  all  hands 
assisted  in  raising  and  pumping  out  the  boat.  When 
in  running  order  we  paid  fifty  cents  per  wagon  and 
one  span  for  ferrying  us  over.  The  loose  stock  swam. 
From  the  Loup  to  the 

PLATTE  CROSSING  AT   KEARNEY 

it  snowed  or  rained  almost  constantly.  At  every  camp 
the  Pawnees  visited  us.  They  were  always  hungry. 
They  told  stories  of  war  parties  out  after  Sioux  scalps, 
capturing  ponies,  robes,  furs,  etc.  We,  having  no  proof 
to  the  contrary,  their  stories  were  allowed  to  stand. 
While  the  beggars  looked  fierce  to  us,  they  were  as 
helpless  as  children.  When  we  reached  a  point  op- 
posite Fort  Kearney  there  were  over  two  hundred 
teams  in  camp,  waiting  to  decide  whether  they  would 
continue  their  journey  on  the  old  California  trail  of 
"49"  on  the  north  side  or  ford  the  Platte  and  go  on 
the  south  side — said  to  be  fifty  miles  the  shorter  road. 
Before  deciding  on  our  route,  we  watched  the  crossing 
of  a  freight  wagon  loaded  with  grain.  Twelve  yoke 
of  oxen  with  five  drivers  waded  into  the  swift  current, 
and  were  soon  floundering  and  wallowing  in  the  shift- 
ing quicksand.  Three  or  four  of  the  drivers  were 
often  up  to  their  necks  in  the  cold  water.  A  rope 
around  the  waist  of  each,  the  other  end  fastened  to  an 
ox-yoke,  prevented  the  drivers  drifting  away.  If  al- 
lowed to  stop,  the  cattle  would  steadily  sink  in  the 
shifting  quicksands  belly  deep.  To  release  them  the 
quicksand  had  to  be  shoveled  from  below  and  let  the 


12  Across  the  Plains 

current  carry  it  away.  This  one  team  was  two  hours 
in  crossing.  The  ferriage  for  one  wagon  was  $6.00. 
After  witnessing  this  sight,  our  party  was  not  long 
in  deciding  to  take  the  trail  on  the  north  side  and 
cross  the  Platte  200  miles  higher  up. 

We  were  now  in  the  country  of  the  hostile  Sioux 
Indians,  and  it  was  necessary  to  organize  our  train, 
consisting  of  one  hundred  and  six  wagons  and  nearly 
one  hundred  and  fifty  men.  Thomas  Prowse,  from 
Galena,  Illinois,  an  old  "49-er,"  was  elected  cap- 
tain. He  was  a  quiet,  level-headed  man,  stern 
of  disposition  sound  of  judgment,  and  with 
plenty  of  "sand."  Mounting  a  wagon  seat  he  said: 
"All  the  men  who  go  with  this  outfit  hand  in  your 
names,  and  the  kind  of  transportation  you  have.  This 
will  be  no  picnic,  and  I  want  you  all  to  understand  that 
every  man  will  do  his  share  of  guard  duty.  Orders 
will  be  orders,  and  if  there  is  a  man  in  this  crowd  not 
willing  to  obey  orders,  now  is  the  time  for  him  to  drop 
out.  The  train  will  'roll  out'  at  daylight  tomorrow 
morning."  The  next  morning  promptly  at  daylight 
every  team  was  numbered  and  placed  in  line.  "Ev- 
erybody will  be  expected  to  keep  up  and  not  lag  be- 
hind," said  the  captain;  "Indians  always  go  for  the 
last  teams,  and  we  may  see  plenty  of  them." 

There  was  a  call  to  know  if  "Jim  McNear  was  in 
the  train."  "You  bet  I  am  here,"  answered  Jim. 
"You'll  find  me  in  the  Collins  outfit  in  front,  on  the 
end  of  this  trail,  and  don't  you  forget  it."  One  of  the 
men  named  "Chance"  volunteered  to  go  over  with 
the  freight  team  for  mail  and  to  post  letters.  This 
being  the  last  opportunity  we  would  have  until  reach- 


Across  the  Plains  13 

ing  Fort  Laramie  unless  the  "pony  mail"  would  pick 
up  the  letters  on  the  way  east.  "Chance"  was  to  join 
us  that  night  ten  miles  above.  He  would  wade  the 
Platte.  Just  as  the  train  was  ready  to  "roll,"  a  buxom 
Irish  girl,  weighing  200  pounds,  drove  up  to  Cap- 
tain Prowse  in  a  covered  wagon,  with  a  span  of  good 
American  horses  and  said :  "Captain,  I  want  to  go  wid 
ye.     I've  me  own  team  and  can  take  care  of  meself. 

ME  name's  jane.'' 

"All  right,"  said  the  captain.  "We  need  one 
woman  with  150  men  to  bake  our  bread,  mend 
our  trousers,  and  sew  buttons  on."  With  charcoal, 
her  wagon  cover  was  marked  "Jane,"  and  she  was  as- 
signed to  a  place  in  the  middle  of  the  train.  , 

Leaving  this  camp  we  bade  farewell  to  civilization 
to  enter  the  country  of  the  hostile  Sioux  Indians, 
over  the  dim  trail  made  by  the  emigrants  going  to 
California  in  "Forty-nine."  The  trail  ran  over  a 
level  plain,  bordered  on  the  east  by  sand  hills  and  low 
bluffs  where  the  buffaloes  ranged  and  on  the  west 
by  the  North  Platte  river.  The  plains  were  covered 
with  dry  grass,  and  there  was  no  fuel  for  two  hundred 
miles.  It  certainly  was  not  a  cheerful  outlook  for  a 
lot  of  "green  pilgrims."  A  mule  strayed  from  our 
first  noon  stop  and  my  mustang  saddle  pony  was 
pressed  into  service  where  he  remained  until  we 
reached  Fort  Laramie.  The  stray  mule  was  not  re- 
covered. 

We  camped  on  Elm  creek,  where  our  man  "Chance" 
was  to  join  us,  but  he  failed  to  come  that  night.  We 
remained  in  camp  all  next  day,  and  still  no  tidings 


14  Across  the  Plains 

of  "Chance."  Out  on  the  foot-hills  a  small  band  of 
buffalo  was  grazing.  We  agreed  to  wait  one  day 
longer  for  "Chance"  and  improve  the  time  by  hunt- 
ing buffalo  to  supply  us  with  fresh  meat. 

April  1 2th,  at  daylight,  we  still  had  no  tidings  of 
our  man.  With  a  light  wagon  and  a  span  of  mules, 
five  of  us,  headed  by  Captain  Prowse,  and  leading 
our  saddle  horses,  started  for  the  bluffs.  Our  ob- 
ject in  taking  a  wagon  served  the  double  purpose  of 
keeping  our  saddle  horses  fresh  and  to  bring  in  the 
game.  At  the  foothills  the  mules  were  unharnessed 
and  tied  to  the  wagon.  Mounting  our  horses,  with 
lariat,  Winchester  rifles  and  hunting  knives,  we  were 
soon  off  and  rode  rapidly  to  the  highest  bluff  two 
miles  away  where  we  tied  the  horses  to  sage  brush, 
and  cautiously  ascended  the  bluffs.  With  field  glasses 
we  looked  the  country  over  for  buffalo. 

HERD  OF  BUFFALO. 

A  low  flat,  not  a  mile  away,  was  alive  with  antelope. 
A  band  of  several  hundred  scattered  over  a  mile  of 
territory  and  beyond  them  was  a  scattering  herd  of 
buffalo.  It  is  not  often  that  hunters  are  disgusted 
with  the  sight  of  an  over  abundance  of  game.  This, 
however,  was  our  predicament.  We  wanted  buft'alo 
and  thepe  they  were  less  than  two  miles  away.  Captain 
Prowse  was  not  long  in  deciding  on  a  plan.  If  we 
came  in  sight  of  the  antelope  they  would  all  take  to 
their  heels,  alarm  the  buffalo,  and  put  an  end  to  our 
chances  of  getting  a  shot  at  them.  With  the  wind  in 
our  favor  we  made  a  detour  of  five  miles,  keeping  well 
out  of  sight,  stopping  occasionally  to  look  over  the 


Across  the  Plains  15 

top  of  the  bluff  and  locate  our  game.  When  we  came 
in  sight  they  were  feeding  through  a  low  sag  in  the 
hills  crossing  a  ridge.  Waiting  until  they  passed  out 
of  sight  we  galloped  to  the  foot  of  the  ridge  and 
again  dismounted  and  crept  on  hands  and  knees  to 
look  over  the  bluff.  We  were  almost  on  top  of  fully 
a  hundred  buffalo,  quietly  feeding,  not  fifty  yards 
away.  Returning  to  our  horses  it  was  planned  that 
each  hunter  should  put  the  end  of  his  lariat  through 
the  bit  ring  and  all  lead  their  horses  abreast  to  the 
firing  point.  "Now  down  on  your  knee,  hold  fast 
to  your  horse,  every  man  pick  his  buffalo  and  'blaze 
away.'  Stick  to  your  own  buffalo  until  he  is  down." 
Such  were  the  orders.  I  obeyed  all  orders  but  one. 
The  fusilade  made  all  the  horses  plunge  and  rear. 
My  mustang  pulled  away  and,  with  lariat  dragging, 
started  in  the  direction  of  the  antelope.  They  scat- 
tered like  quail.  Not  waiting  for  a  report  on  the  first 
round  of  fire,  as  it  involved  a  possibility  of  losing  my 
horse  entirely  and  walking  ten  miles  to  camp,  I  fol- 
lowed the  mustang.  It  was  not  long  until  I  saw  the 
hunters  headed  for  the  bluffs  with  the  wagon  to  bring 
in  the  game.  Tired  out,  and  disgusted  with  my  part 
in  the  hunt,  I  kept  on  after  my  pony.  One  of  the 
hunters  came  to  my  relief  and  soon  caught  him.  My 
revenge  on  his  conduct  was  to  ride  him  on  a  dead  run 
until  there  was  not  much  ''go"  left  in  either  the  pony 
or  the  rider. 

The  result  of  the  hunt  was  three  buffalo  and  three 
antelope  killed  on  the  way  home.  It  was  sundown 
when  we  were  well  on  the  way  back  and  the  party 
did  not  reach  camp  until  midnight.    Up  to  the  present 


16  Across  the  Plains 

date  I  fail  to  realize  any  great  pleasure  or  sport  in  my 
first  buffalo  hunt.  The  lost  man  "Chance"  had  reached 
camp  at  noon,  footsore,  and  with  hands  and  face  bleed- 
ing from  cuts  from  the  sharp  blades  of  grass.  He  told 
a  most  pitiful  story.  The  first  day  he  walked  until 
dark  then  lay  down  on  the  ground  for  a  long  night's 
dread  of  Indians.  The  second  day,  believing  the  train 
was  still  ahead,  he  traveled  until  noon  and  then  re- 
traced his  steps.  Seeing  our  wagon  on  high  ground 
going  to  the  bluflfs,  he  concluded  we  were  in  camp 
somewhere  on  Elm  creek.  Here  he  waded  and  swam 
the  Platte  and  followed  the  creek  to  our  camp.  He 
had  eaten  nothing  in  the  two  days  but  a  rabbit  and  a 
prairie  dog,  killed  with  rocks.  Afraid  of  Indians  he 
did  not  light  a  fire  and  ate  them  raw. 

April  13th  we  drove  twenty-two  miles.  There  was 
no  wood.  Our  only  fuel  was  buffalo  chips.  The  next 
day  we  drove  thirty  miles.  A  lodge  of  Indians  came 
to  us,  armed  only  with  bows  and  arrows.  They  were 
friendly  and  hungry,  and  left  us  after  supper. 

April  15th  we  started  at  daylight  and  discovered  a 
dense  smoke  to  the  north.  It  was  a  prairie  fire  ten 
miles  away.  The  captain  ordered  halt,  and  calling 
all  hands  around  him,  he  said :  "If  the  wind  changes 
and  that  fire  comes  this  way,  we  must  work  fast  or  we 
are  'goners.'  "  Half  an  hour  brought  us  to  a  marsh 
and  a  small  lake.  We  made  camp  between  them.  It 
was  lively  work  corralling  the  wagons,  "close  up,"  and 
chaining  them  together.  The  stock  was  driven  in- 
side, and  the  entrance  was  closed  up  and  securely 
chained.  Every  man  took  a  bucket  and  a  grain  sack, 
and  under  the  orders  of  Captain  Prowse  began 


Across  the  Plains  17 

"back  firing/' 

by  dropping  a  lighted  match  in  the  dry  grass, 
and  putting  out  the  fire  before  it  got  beyond  control, 
and  then  beginning  in  a  new  place,  repeating  the 
operation  over  and  over  again,  with  a  bucket  of  water 
always  near  by  to  keep  the  bag  wet.  In  an  hour's 
time  several  acres  were  burned  over,  all  around  us. 
Even  "J^"^"  did  her  share  of  work,  carrying  water 
to  the  men.  It  was  fast  and  strenuous  work  and  was 
finished  none  too  soon  to  avoid  a  most  serious  disaster. 
Soon  the  wind  changed  as  the  captain  predicted.  The 
blaze  was  in  sight,  coming  toward  us  with  a  speed  of 
a  race  horse.  It  was  a  line  of  fire  a  mile  long,  coming 
like  a  g^eat  wave,  at  times  leaping  fifty  feet  in  the  air. 
The  roar,  hissing  and  cracking  of  the  flames  could  be 
heard  a  mile  away.  Deer,  rabbits  and  prairie  dogs 
swept  through  our  camp  in  great  fright.  The  sight 
was  grand  and  awful.  When  the  flame  reached  the 
head  of  the  lake  north  of  us  a  quarter  of  a  mile  away, 
we  could  feel  the  heat.  It  was  almost  stifling.  At 
this  point  the  fire  stopped.  We  had  "back  fired"  a 
quarter  of  a  mile  along  its  edge.  Fearing  that  when 
the  tall  grass  in  the  marsh  was  reached  the  falHng  em- 
bers would  set  fire  to  our  wagon  covers,  McNear  fired 
the  marsh  before  the  main  flame  reached  it.  During 
the  excitement  the  stock  bellowed  and  brayed  like  wild 
beasts.  Soon  the  two  waves  of  fire  met,  and  the  smoke 
was  so  blinding  that  we  were  compelled  to  throw  our- 
selves flat  on  the  ground  until  it  passed  over.  When 
the  fire  had  passed  and  gone  around  us,  the  men  were 
called  together  to  ascertain  if  everybody  was  accounted 
for.    All  stood  alongside  their  wagons  and  answered 


18  Across  the  Plains 

to  their  names.  What  became  of  the  Indians  mattered 
little  to  us.  They  are  generally  equal  to  such  occas- 
ions  and  may  have  gone  into  the  river  for  safety. 

We  resumed  our  march  on  April  17th.  For  miles 
and  miles  the  bleached  heads  and  bones  of  buffalo 
showed  plainly  on  the  sea  of  burnt  ground.  Many 
snakes  and  small  animals  were  found  partly  burned. 
The  air  was  dense  with  floating  ashes.  We  moved  to 
a  spot  near  the  Platte  where  a  guard  was  organ- 
ized of  every  man  in  the  train.  McNear  was  chosen 
captain  of  the  guard.  With  nearly  150  men  the  duty 
of  standing  guard  three  hours  at  night  fell  upon  each 
one  lightly.  There  were  three  shifts  of  four  men  each 
which  made  guard  duty  come  but  once  a  week.  Snow 
and  hail  fell  the  entire  night.  The  stock  was  rest- 
less and  kept  the  guard  busy  driving  picket  pins. 
Owing  to  the  many  delays  we  fed  half  the  usual  ration 
of  grain  to  our  animals. 

In  crossing  North  Bluff  creek,  the  next  day,  we 
broke  two  wagons,  and  the  train  went  into  camp  near 
the  foot  of  a  sand  bluff  for  repairs.  Here  a  lone  In- 
dian came  to  us  with  jaded  ponies,  bow  and  arrows, 
and  a  hungry  look.  He  was  the  first  Indian  we  met 
that  seemed  to  have  any  business  except  to  clean  out 
our  larder.  His  story  was  that  twelve  Sioux  had 
raided  a  camp  of  Pawnees  south  of  the  Platte;  eleven 
were  killed,  all  their  stock  was  taken  and  he  alone  had 
escaped.  By  signs  he  made  us  understand  that  our 
road  for  a  short  distance  would  be  level,  and  then 
leave  the  river  and  cross  a  sand  bluff  and  be  "one 
sleep"  without  wood,  water  or  grass ;  then  back  to  the 
river,  and  in  sight  of  Chimney  Rock  on  the  south 


Across  the  Plains  19 

side.  He  also  gave  us  the  cheerful  news  that  war  par- 
ties of  Sioux  were  out  and  we  must  look  out  for  our 
stock.    After  supper  he  left  us. 

A    WHITE    MAN    SCALPED. 

Before  reaching  the  sand  bluffs  we  had  evidence 
that  our  Indian  guest  knew  the  condition  of  affairs. 
One  of  our  men,  who  had  gone  ahead,  came  upon  the 
body  of  a  white  man  scalped  and  with  an  arrow  half 
through  his  body.*  On  the  trail  we  found  a 
partly  burned  wagon,  parts  of  harness,  empty 
fruit  cans,  etc.,  and  the  remnants  of  a  camp  fire.  Later 
it  was  learned  that  two  men  and  one  woman  had  trav- 
eled alone  in  this  outfit.  At  this  camp  they  were  at- 
tacked at  night.  The  woman  was  carried  off  alive  by 
the  Indians.  One  man  was  killed,  and  the  other  es- 
caped by  hiding  in  the  grass  and  wading  the  Platte. 
Going  over  the  sand  bluffs  our  wagons  sunk  to  the 
hub.  All  day  we  wallowed  through  by  doubling  teams 
on  every  wagon.  We  traveled  very  slowly.  Night 
found  us  still  in  the  sand  with  no  wood,  water  or 
grass.  We  tied  our  stock  up  to  the  wagons  and  they 
gnawed  at  the  wagon  bows  and  covers  all  night. 

April  19th  our  route  was  still  over  the  sand  and 
again  down  along  the  Platte  in  sight  of  Chimney  Rock. 
There  was  no  fuel  except  weeds  and  buffalo  chips.  It 
rained  and  snowed  the  entire  day.  The  next  three 
days  we  camped  in  sight  of  Ancient  bluffs.  Owing 
to  the  heavy  rain  and  snow  and  the  howling  of  wolves 
and  coyotes 


♦This  arrow  is  in  the  author's  possession. 


20  Across  the  Plains 

OUR    ENTIRE    HERD    STAMPEDED 

at  night,  jerking  their  picket  pins  and  sending  them 
flying  through  the  air,  at  the  end  of  lariats,  spinning 
like  tops.  "Mustang"  and  two  or  three  other  head  were 
always  picketed  near  the  tents.  The  whole  herd  came 
through  the  camp  like  an  avalanche.  Hearing  the 
clatter  of  hoofs  McNear  rushed  for  the  mustang, 
pulled  up  his  picket  pin  and  in  his  night  clothes  and 
bare  feet,  mounted  him  bareback  and  drifted  with  the 
herd.  ''Long  Jim"  of  the  Missouri  crowd,  and 
''Chance"  each  caught  a  mule,  mounted,  and 
away  they  went  in  the  midst  of  the  runaway  herd. 
The  night  was  as  black  as  ink. 

April  2 1st,  when  morning  came  there  was  not  a 
hoof  of  stock  in  sight  and  three  men  gone.  Two  or 
three  drivers  set  out  on  foot  to  assist  in  recovering 
the  stock.  How  far  or  how  long  the  herd  would  go, 
no  one  could  tell.  At  noon  McNear  reported,  leading 
half  a  dozen  head,  and  said  the  entire  herd  was  com- 
ing on. 

April  23rd  we  drove  to  a  stockade  where  a  half- 
breed  kept  a  store  of  blankets  and  goods  for  trading 
with  the  Indians  for  buffalo  robes,  otter  and  beaver 
skins.  Twelve  lodges  of  Sioux  were  camped  about 
the  stockade.  Here  we  remained  two  days  and  sent 
a  messenger  on  to  old  Fort  Laramie  with  letters  to 
mail.  This  was  our  first  post  office  since  leaving  Col- 
umbus, Nebraska,  a  distance  of  nearly  four  hundred 
miles. 

April  25th  we  crossed  the  Platte,  at  the  mouth  of 
the  Laramie  river,  two  miles  from  the  post.  Again 
our  man  "Chance"  distinguished  himself.     A  "devil 


Across  the  Plains  2i 

may-care"  fellow  that  was  always  ready  to  take  the 
brunt  of  anything  that  offered  a  spice  of  danger,  into 
the  river  he  plunged  and  the  next  moment  he  and  pony 
were  floundering  in  the  quicksand.  All  teams  crossed 
without  accident. 

AT   FORT   LARAMIE. 

April  26th  Lieutenant-Colonel  Collins,  of  the  nth 
Ohio,  was  in  command  at  Fort  Laramie.  The  troops 
were  known  as  "galvanized"  confederate  soldiers, 
captured  by  the  federals  and  sent  west  for  lack  of 
prison  room.  Here  we  met  Jim  Bridger,  the  scout, 
forty-two  years  of  whose  life  were  spent  on  the 
plains  and  in  the  mountains,  and  who  married  a  Flat- 
head squaw.  Bridger  was  organizing  a  train  to  open 
up  a  new  route  to  the  gold  fields  via  the  Big  Horn 
mountains.  He  was  continually  annoyed  by  the  fool- 
ish questions  of  the  pilgrims.  While  I  was  talking  to 
him  about  his  new  route  one  of  the  "Ten  strike"  "but- 
ted in"  with  the  question,  "Mr.  Bridger,  how  long 
have  you  bin  in  this  kentry?"  Pointing  to  Laramie 
Peak,  in  the  range  of  mountains  forty  miles  away, 
without  cracking  a  smile  or  a  twinkle  in  his  keen  gray 
eyes,  he  answered :  "Stranger,  d'ye  see  that  high  moun- 
tain over  in  the  range  yonder  ?  Well,  when  I  first  kem 
to  this  kentry,  that  mountain  was  a  hole  in  the 
ground." 

Little  did  I  dream  while  looking  over  this,  the 
first  frontier  military  post  I  had  ever  visited,  that  it 
would  fall  my  lot  to  ever  set  my  eyes  on  it  again.  In 
1872  I  went  to  this  same  old  post  as  post-trader,  ap- 


22  Across  the  Plains 

pointed  by  President  Grant,  and  remained  there  until 
about  1882. 

Near  the  crossing  one  of  our  pilgrims  discovered 
a  tent  with  a  sign  board  daubed  in  wagon 
grease,  "Post  Office."  "Letters  to  the  states  50  cents." 
Two  "Johnnies-come  lately"  had  set  up  a  tent,  cut  a 
slit  in  a  board  large  enough  to  pass  a  silver  dollar,  laid 
this  across  a  barrel,  into  which  they  dropped  half  a  dol- 
lar for  each  letter  delivered.  While  waiting  to  have 
letters  checked  off  and  the  mail  "made  up"  a  rider 
mounted  on  a  cayuse  pony  would  ride  up  in  great 
haste  and  call  for  "mail,"  saying,  "Can't  wait,"  "be- 
hind time,"  etc.  He  had  just  come  out  of  the  river 
wet  to  the  back.  When  the  bag  of  mail  was  handed 
out  he  was  off  to  ride  further  down  the  Platte,  dump 
the  mail  into  the  river,  turn  his  pony  out  and  wait  for 
the  arrival  of  the  next  train  of  pilgrims.  Sergeant 
Snyder  at  Fort  Laramie  said  "It  was  nothing  but  a 
Mam  schwindle,'  but  dey  made  a  pushel  o'  money  mit 
it." 

When  we  arrived  at  Fort  Laramie  an  officious  young 
lieutenant,  by  name  Pettyjohn,  was  officer  of  the  day. 
Whether  from  a  sense  of  duty  or  natural  curiosity, 
he  fished  out  of  our  wagon  an  old  army  musket  that 
McNear  had  been  allowed  to  carry  home  when  dis- 
charged from  the  army;  he  arrested  Jim  and  took 
him  before  the  commanding  officer  for  having  govern- 
ment property  in  his  possession.  Jim's  honest  face 
and  short  speech  to  the  officer  resulted  in  the  lieuten- 
ant being  ordered  to  return  the  weapon  and,  turning 
to  Jim,  he  said :  "I  hope  this  old  gun  may  be  of  good 
service  to  you  in  case  you  need  it  to  fight  Indians." 


Across  the  Plains  23 

Leaving  Fort  Laramie,  April  27th,  by  mistake 
we  followed  the  road  to  the  government  saw 
mill  near  Laramie  Peak  and  drove  as  far  as  Little 
Cottonwood  before  discovering  our  error.  Captain 
Prowse  and  McNear  with  saddle  horses  followed  the 
road  a  few  miles  and  satisfying  themselves  that  we 
were  on  the  wrong  trail  returned,  and  we  drove  across 
the  prairie  to  the  Platte  road.*  From  here  the  road 
was  over  rolling  hills  and  our  progress  was  slow. 

May  1st  we  camped  on  Labonte  creek,  where,  in 
1886,  I  established  a  cattle  ranch. 

May  4th  we  were  at  Fort  Fetterman,  where  there 
were  more  ''galvanized"  soldiers.  The  credulous  Mc- 
Near gave  away  all  the  onions  and  potatoes  in  our  lar- 
der to  soldiers  on  their  plea  ''that  they  would  all  die 
of  scurvy    if  they  did  not  get  some  vegetables  soon." 

POISON   SPRINGS. 

Beyond  Fetterman  was  Poison  Springs.  The  banks 
of  the  stream  were  strewn  with  bones  and  carcasses 
of  animals  dead  from  drinking  the  alkali  water.  Dur- 
ing the  hot  months  it  was  so  strong  with  alkali  that 
after  boiling  coffee  it  was  most  disagreeable  to  taste. 
At  this  point  we  saw  the  stump  of  a  telegraph  pole  cut 
by  the  Indians.  They  had  camped  here  during  a 
heavy  rain  and  thunderstorm.  To  get  dry  wood  to 
start  a  fire  an  Indian  with  his  tomahawk  went  to  the 
pole  and  began  chopping  off  chips.  Lightning  struck 
the  pole  and  killed  the  Indian.    This  is  given  as  a  rea- 


♦The  writer  still  has  in  his  possession  a  jar  of  stones  col- 
lected on  this  trip  including  one  with  the  date  cut  with  a  pen- 
knife while  waiting. 


24  Across  the  Plains 

son  why  Indians  never  after  molested  a  telegraph  pole. 
They  counted  it  "bad  medicine." 

May  7th  we  were  at  the  first  crossing  of  the  Sweet- 
water near  Independence  Rock  and  Devil's  Gatd 
Near  by  were  alkali  or  soda  lakes.  The  banks  were 
white  as  snow  and  the  soda  lay  inches  deep.  We  used 
it  in  making  bread  and  found  it  almost  equal  to  bak- 
ing powder.  I  waded  through  the  walls  of  rock  be- 
tween which  the  stream  ran,  the  road  running  to  the 
south  and  around  it.  I  saw  many  names  painted  and 
carved  on  the  rocks — some  dating  1847  ^"^  1849.  Here 
a  detachment  of  cavalry  came  to  our  camp  with  orders 
to  arrest  our  train  and  return  it  to  Fort  Laramie.  It 
developed  that  one  of  the  men  in  our  train  had  p^ur- 
chased  government  corn  from  a  soldier.  To  settle  it 
the  party  gave  the  sergeant  a  few  cans  of  fruit,  sup- 
posing that  would  be  the  end. 

May  loth  we  camped  at  the  third  crossing  of  the 
Sweetwater,  being  detained  by  rain  and  snow.  Just 
as  we  were  leaving  at  noon  Captain  Marshall  an  of- 
ficer and  twenty  mounted  men,  rode  into  camp,  and 
inquired  for  the  captain  of  our  train.  When  Captain 
Prowse  was  pointed  out  the  officer  said :  "I  am  ordered 
to  return  Captain  Prowse's  train  to  Fort  Laramie." 
This  was  on  account  of  the  "corn  deal,"  which  it  was 
thought,  had  been  settled.  After  a  lot  of  argument 
and  dickering,  in  which  every  owner  of  a  team  or 
teams  took  part,  McNear  addressed  the  officer :  "Cap- 
tain, look  here,  I  just  come  out  of  one  war,  and  aint 
looking  for  another.  You  can  read  this  paper,  (hand- 
ing him  his  discharge  from  the  United  States  Army.) 
I  don't  know  nothing  about  your  business,  but  Mr.  Col- 


Across  the  Plains  25 

lins  owns  six  teams  in  this  train,  that  is  ready  to  pull 
out,  and  we  are  going  west.  If  you  have  any  busi- 
ness with  anybody  in  Captain  Prowse's  train  you  bet- 
ter pick  out  your  man.  Here's  where  we  leave  the 
train."  Without  further  ceremony  McNear  mounted 
the  lead  wagon,  took  the  reins  and  ordered  "the  Col- 
lins' outfit  to  come  on."  By  this  time  the  **corn  man" 
came  to  the  front  and  began  his  story.  To  hold  a  con- 
versation privately  the  captain  took  him  behind  a 
bunch  of  rocks.  In  less  than  ten  minutes,  the  captain 
rode  out  in  pompous  style,  straightened  up  in  his  sad- 
dle, and  ordered  his  men  to  "right  wheel,  forward 
march,"  and  they  rode  off  like  the  soldiers  who  "first 
rode  up  the  hill,  then  rode  down  again."  The  only 
question  to  the  whole  affair  was :  What  induced  the 
captain  to  disobey  his  orders  to  return  the  train  to 
Fort  Laramie? 

May  nth  we  were  in  sight  of  snow  on  the  Rocky 
mountains.  This  was  at  the  fifth  crossing  of  the 
Sweetwater.  A  detachment  of  soldiers  from  Fort 
Laramie  had  been  stationed  here  to  look  out  for  de- 
serters. The  day  before  our  arrival  all  the  soldiers, 
including  the  sergeant,  deserted,  taking  horses,  equip- 
ments, guns,  ammunition  and  blankets. 

May  13th  we  began  the  ascent  to  South  Pass,  and 
at  10  a.  m.  reached  Fort  Casper,  an  abandoned  log 
house  on  the  side  of  the  mountain,  where  a  few  soldiers 
wintered  in  1863.  At  this  point  our  train  divided,  part 
going  via  Fort  Bridger  and  Soda  Springs,  our  part  of 
the  train  going  by  the  way  of  "Lander's  cut-off."  The 
ascent  to  South  Pass  was  so  gradual  that  we  scarcely 
knew  when  the  summit  was  passed. 


26  Across  the  Plains 

May  15th  we  camped  at  the  foot  of  the  western 
slope  on  the  Big  Sandy.  Here  we  caught  our  first 
trout.  We  had  some  difficulty  in  going  down  the  west 
slope  of  the  Rocky  mountains.  All  the  streams  on 
the  west  slope  abounded  in  trout. 

GREEN    RIVER. 

May  i6th  we  drove  to  the  first  fork  of  Green  river. 
The  water  was  deep  and  the  current  swift.  The  "char- 
acter" of  our  train  was  ''Qiance,"  the  easy-going 
"devil-may-care"  fellow  who  never  shirked.  It  was 
a  precaution  to  test  the  current  and  depths  of  streams 
always  before  attempting  to  cross.  After  digging  away 
ten  foot  of  bank  to  drive  to  the  water  safely,  a  volun- 
teer was  called  for.  "Give  me  your  mustang,"  said 
"Chance,"  "and  if  I  live  through  it,  you  fellows  come 
on  with  your  wagons."  At  the  first  dash  "Chance" 
and  his  pony  went  out  of  sight,  and  came  to  the  surface 
twenty  feet  below  sputtering  and  spouting  like  a  whale. 
"It's  deep  there;  better  come  down  easy,"  said 
"Chance."  All  of  the  wagon  beds  were  blocked  up  to 
the  top  of  their  side  standards  and  lashed  down  to 
their  running  gear.  A  rope  was  tied  to  the  rear  axle 
of  each  wagon  manned  by  a  dozen  men,  eased  down 
by  a  like  number,  and  when  afloat,  to  hold  it  from 
drifting  down  the  current,  another  rope  was  attach- 
ed to  the  tongue  and  carried  between  the  lead  mules, 
handled  by  a  crew  of  twelve  on  the  opposite  shore. 
When  the  lead  mules  were  out  of  sight  under  water, 
with  the  aid  of  the  rope  the  men  on  the  west  shore 
hauled  them  to  a  sand  bar  where  they  found  footing. 
The  leaders  towed  the  wheelers  along  to  the  sand  bar, 


Across  the  Plains  27 

and  the  wagon  followed  to  shore  in  safety.  As  I  had 
traveled  two-thirds  of  the  distance  from  Omaha  on 
foot,  it  did  not  occur  to  me  that  I  would  be  called  upon 
to  mount  the  high  seat  and  drive  my  four-mule  team 
the  first  through  the  only  dangerous  crossing  we  had 
met.  The  driver  of  this  team  had  been  called  back  to 
look  after  the  loose  stock  and  there  was  no  one  else  to 
drive.  When  Captain  Prowse,  in  a  tone  of  voice  that 
appeared  to  have  a  business  ring,  said,  "Get  up  and 
tackle  it,  Collins,"  there  was  nothing  else  to  do.  "Can't 
I  ride  with  you,  Mr.  Collins?  Fm  scared  of  them  low 
wagons."  This  was  the  voice  of  "Jane"  and  she 
climbed  upon  the  seat  beside  me.  The  leaders  went 
over  their  heads  the  first  plunge.  The  men  at  the  rear 
with  ropes  let  the  wagon  down  easy,  pushing  the 
wheelers  in  up  to  their  backs.  Then  came  the  wagon. 
When  it  reached  five  feet  of  water  it  floated  and  top- 
pled with  the  current.  At  this  point,  where  all  the 
skill  of  a  driver  was  needed  as  well  as  any  "grain"  of 
"sand"  he  might  possess,  "Jane"  came  over  onto  me, 
grabbing  and  scrambling  to  keep  from  falling  off.  We 
landed  safely  and  this  same  process  was  used  in  cross- 
ing every  wagon  in  the  train.  Few  travelers  in  these 
days  would  attempt  so  hazardous  a  crossing.  With 
us  it  was  a  ground  hog  case.  Hard  work,  level  heads, 
and  good  judgment  carried  every  team  over  safely. 

May  17th  we  drove  eight  miles  and  crossed  the 
second  fork  of  Green  river  with  less  difficulty  than 
the  first. 

May  1 8th  we  drove  twelve  miles  and  camped  on 
the  third  fork.  Here  we  caught  mountain  trout.  At 
the  fourth  fork  we  camped  near  a  grave.    The  head- 


28  Across  the  Plains 

board  bore  the  inscription:  "Martin  Moran,  killed 
by  Indians  in  1862."  (Digger  Indians.)  This  was 
near  the  foot  of  Wind  River  mountains.  Driving  five 
miles  farther  we  camped  in  a  canyon.  It  snowed  all 
night. 

SNOW  EIGHT  FEET  DEEP. 

May  2 1  St  the  snow  continued.  We  were  unable  to 
travel  over  three  miles  this  day,  the  trail  being  almost 
impassable.  During  this  short  drif  e  we  dug  out  snow 
eight  feet  deep  for  fifty  feet  and  camped  at  Fort  Sny- 
der— a  log  cabin  where  a  few  soldiers  camped  the  sum- 
mer previous.  One  of  our  party  with  a  saddle-horse 
took  the  trail  ahead  and  returning  reported  forty 
teams  and  a  hundred  men  working  their  way  through 
twenty  miles  of  snow  two  to  three  feet  deep.  This 
was  ''Lander's  cut-off,"  and  we  were  five  days  digging 
our  way  through  snow.  Two  days  we  drove  our  ani- 
mals back  five  to  eight  miles  to  the  nearest  grass. 
Three  days  we  fed  them  flour  out  of  our  provision  sup- 
ply.    We  had  fed  out  all  our  grain. 

May  26th  we  came  to  the  camp  where  forty  teams 
ahead  of  us  had  just  left.  It  was  a  sight.  Empty 
wagons,  barrels,  kegs,  boxes,  chairs,  stoves,  and 
everything  of  weight  or  bulk  that  could  be  dispensed 
with,  had  been  left  on  the  ground  and  abandoned  to 
enable  the  party  to  move  through  the  snow  and  mud. 
All  they  took  with  them  was  packed  on  their  animals, 
and  on  one  loaded  wagon. 

May  27th  found  our  train  still  tugging  up  the 
mountain  side,  doubHpg  teams,  unloading  and  carry- 
ing on  our  backs  sacks  of  flour,  grain  and  boxes  of 


Across  the  Plains  29 

canned  goods.  At  times  a  heavy  wagon  would  have 
forty  head  of  horses  and  mules  and  a  driver  to  each 
span  moving  very  slowly.  At  7  p.  m.  the  wagons 
were  from  one-half  to  three  miles  apart.  There  was 
no  cooked  food  and  many  of  us  were  without  tent 
or  bed.  One  of  my  own  teams,  just  at  the  top  of  the 
mountain,  was  actually  buried  in  eight  feet  of  snow. 
We  passed  a  very  uncomfortable  night  on  the  mount- 
ain. The  snow  was  crusted  over.  At  4  a.  m..  May 
28th,  the  wagons  were  taken  over  the  crust  until  the 
sun  made  it  soft  and  then  the  digging  and  pulling  be- 
gan again.  We  finally  overtook  the  parties  ahead  of 
us.  They  were  still  overloaded  and  I  purchased  sev- 
eral bags  of  sugar,  at  forty-five  cents  per  pound,  and 
canned  peaches  at  $13.00  per  dozen  from  the  owner 
of  the  wagon. 

"Jane"  had  a  tough  time  while  we  were  crossing 
over  the  mountains  through  the  snow.  No  one  paid 
much  attention  to  her  after  she  had  been  told  to  remain 
in  her  wagon  and  we  would  see  her  safely  through. 
She  was  always  good  natured  and  through  all  the 
difficulties  sat  in  her  wagon  like  a  statue. 

May  29th  was  our  first  day  out  of  the  mountains 
and  away  from  the  snow  in  eight  days.  We  camped 
on  Salt  river,  near  Salt  springs. 

When  we  nooned  before  reaching  Salt  creek  a 
spirit  of  adventure  seized  upon  me  and  on  foot  I  fol- 
lowed a  game  trail  across  a  plateau  with  some  mis- 
givings that  I  might  not  overtake  the  train  until  they 
camped  some  twelve  miles  ahead.  The  road  made 
an  ox  bow  over  a  rough  road  of  boulders  and  I  took 
the  short  cut  to  rest  from  riding. 


30  Across  the  Plains 

After  walking  about  five  miles,  I  sat  down  on  a 
rock  on  a  barren  flat  and  picked  up  a  copper  coin 
dated  1759.  I  did  not  overtake  the  train  until  they 
camped. 

I  recently  came  across  this  copper  coin,  and  think- 
ing of  its  date  and  the  circumstance  of  finding  it  forty 
years  ago  out  in  a  wild  Indian  country,  entitled  it  to 
some  value;  I  sent  it  to  a  New  York  expert  on 
coins  for  his  judgment.  I  was  not  a  little  surprised 
when  he  replied,  ''It  is  a  Swedish  coin  and  not  worth 
a  penny."'^ 

May  30th  we  drove  to  Blackfoot  creek  by  noon. 
This  was  at  the  junction  of  Sublet  cutoflf  and  the 
Soda  Springs  road.  Several  lodges  of  Blackfoot  In- 
dians were  camped  here  fishing.  For  a  tin  cup  of 
flour  they  would  exchange  a  string  of  trout  a  yard 
long.  A  cup  of  sugar  would  take  the  catch  of  half 
a  dozen  Indian  boys  who  were  better  fishermen  than 
the  men.  Trout  was  so  abundant  that  the  water  was 
in  a  constant  ripple. 

SNAKE    RIVER. 

June  3rd  we  reached  Snake  river — Harry  Richards 
and  Massa's  Rope  Ferry.  We  paid  $3.00  each  for 
crossing  the  wagons.  The  stock  swam.  The  owners 
of  the  ferry  and  their  men  quietly  sat  on  the  bank  and 
watched  the  men  in  our  train  do  all  the  work  in  cross- 
ing. The  forty  teams  ahead  of  us  were  taken  across 
before  our  train.  All  the  way  from  Kearney  west,  just 
behind  my  last  team,  had  followed  a  span  of  mules, 


•This  coin  is  still  in  the  possession  of  the  author. 


Across  the  Plains  31 

with  a  single  wagon  carrying  ten  long,  lank  Missouri 
corn  crackers  with  their  beds  and  provisions.  If  they 
ever  possessed  a  name,  it  was  not  divulged  on  the 
trip.  They  were  dubbed  "Long  Jim"  and  the  "Ten 
Strike."  The  one  reason  for  taking  them  in  at  Kear- 
ney was  that  so  many  men  with  only  one  span  of 
mules  to  look  after  gave  us  nine  extra  men  to  help 
out  in  a  pinch. 

When  the  crossing  of  teams  began  here  the  **Ten 
Strike"  left  their  positipn  in  the  train  and  pulled  in 
ahead  of  my  wagon,  No.  4.  Apparently  no  attention 
was  paid  to  this,  the  first  breach  in  our  discipline, 
but  it  did  not  escape  the  eagle  eye  of  McNear.  It  was 
a  rainy,  drizzly  day,  and  everybody  was  out  of  humor. 
After  all  the  wagons  were  crossed  and  were  safe  in 
camp,  and  our  tents  up,  we  were  eating  supper.  It  was 
noticed  that  something  was  "out  of  joint"  in  McNear's 
mind,  and  he  was  "wool  gathering."  He  placed  his 
tin  plate  and  cup  on  the  ground,  stood  up  and  shook 
himself  out,  then  said:  "Now,  if  we'uns  want  to  see 
some  fun,  come  with  me."  "What's  up,  Jim?"  I 
asked.  "Did  you  see  the  Ten  Strike'  pull  in  ahead  of 
our  No.  4  in  crossing  ?    I  m  going  over  to  their  tent  and 

clean  out  the  whole  d d  outfit."    Jim  was  as  mild 

a  mannered  man  as  "ever  scuttled  ship."  He  would 
serve  one  man  as  faithfully  as  another,  but  anything 
that  had  a  semblance  of  unfairness  would  not  "go 
down"  with  him.  He  would  fight  wild  cats  if  he 
were  right.  It  took  no  little  persuading  to  keep  him 
from  his  purpose.  I  finally  said  to  him,  "It  is  less 
than  three  days  to  the  end  of  our  journey,  and  we 
have  had  no  'scraps.'  Don't  you  think  it  a  little  late  to 


32  Across  the  Plains 

begin  now?"    "All  right,"  said  Jim,  "let  it  go."  That 
ended  it. 

On  the  opposite  bank  was  a  camp  of  Bannock  In- 
dians, cooking  their  mixed  meal  of  flour  and  water  in 
a  basket.  Stones  were  heated  and  placed  in  the  basket, 
and  this  repeated  until  the  meal  was  cooked. 

June  6th  we  drove  twenty-nine  miles.  We  halted 
at  a  dry  camp — no  wood,  water  or  grass.  Animals 
that  were  tied  up  at  night  to  the  wagon  wheels  gnawed 
and  destroyed  what  was  left  of  the  wagon  covers. 
The  only  fuel  was  buffalo  chips.  Here  we  came  onto 
the  "49"  wagon  trail  leading  to  California  and  also 
to  Salt  Lake  and  it  was  fairly  bristling  with  pack 
animals,  twenty-span  California  mule  teams  and 
wagons  with  trails  loaded  as  heavy  as  twelve  thousand 
pounds  to  a  team.  The  twenty  mules  were  driven  by 
one  man,  riding  the  "near"  wheel  mule,  and  using  a 
single  "jerk"  line  running  to  the  bit  of  the  lead  mule, 
thus  guiding  the  entire  team.  One  jerk  of  the  line  was 
"gee,"  two  jerks  "haw,"  etc.  The  plains  around  us 
were  strewn  with  the  heads  and  bleached  bones  of 
buffalo  killed  by  Indians. 

A  few  hours'  drive  carried  us  through  Pleasant 
Valley  and  over  gentle  rolling  grass-covered  hills  and 
across  the  continental  divide  the  second  time  to  the 
eastern  slope.  From  the  foot  of  the  eastern  slope  we 
rumbled  along  through  a  rocky  canyon,  at  the  mouth 
of  which  we  found  a  toll  gate  and  a  western  charac- 
ter, with  slouch  hat,  buckskin  trousers  and  shirts,  and 
with  the  regular  "six  shooter"  and  belt  of  ammunition 
strapped  upon  him.  With  these  accompaniments  he  col- 
lected our  last  toll  of  $1.50  for  each  wagon.     Our 


Across  the  Plains  .  33 

mounted  men  drove  the  loose  stock  around  the  gate 
and  over  a  rocky  hill,  thereby  saving  toll.  With  the 
exchange  of  a  few  choice  western  epithets  between  the 
man  at  the  gate  and  the  men  driving  stock  the  latter 
were  soon  out  of  sight  over  the  hill  and  the  incident 
was  closed. 

IN   SIGHT  OF  VIRGINIA  CITY. 

June  nth  we  camped  on  the  Stinking  Water  river — 
so  called  from  the  buffalo  herds  dying  there  from  a 
disease  in  a  severe  winter  years  before — and  within  a 
short  day's  drive  of  Virginia  City,  the  famous  gold 
field.  We  had  left  the  Missouri  river  eighty-one  days 
before. 

On  the  morning  of  Sunday,  June  I2th,  1864,  we 
were  in  camp  in  sight  of  Virginia  City.  There  being 
no  grass  or  camping  grounds  nearer  than  two  or  three 
miles  our  stock  was  turned  out  on  the  hills  in  charge 
of  herders.  We  had  reached  our  last  camp.  The  bal- 
ance of  the  day  was  spent  in  bathing  in  a  stream,  wash- 
ing our  clothing,  baking  bread,  and  a  general  over- 
hauling of  wagons,  preparatory  to  entering  the  city 
in  decent  order  the  next  day,  and  here  our  train  dis- 
banded. 

I  walked  over  to  Virginia  City  to  look  at  the  town. 
All  the  stores  were  filled  with  miners  buying  their 
week's  provisions.  Counting  freight  from  the  Mis- 
souri river,  flour  was  considered  low  at  $35.00  for  a 
bag  of  96  pounds ;  coal  oil,  $4.00  to  $6.00  a  gallon ; 
candles,  50  cents  a  pound;  sugar,  50  cents;  coffee, 
$1.00;  a  hickory  axe  handle,  $3.00;  an  axe,  $2.00;  etc. 
The  gambling  rooms  and  saloons  were  running  "full 


34  Across  the  Plains 

blast,"  bands  were  playing,  men  and  women  were 
running  all  the  gambling  devices  known  to  a  mining 
camp,  to  separate  the  miner,  the  merchant  and  the  pil- 
grim from  his  money.  Great  stacks  of  gold  and  sil- 
ver coin  lay  on  every  table,  and  the  rooms  were  filled 
with  a  motley  set  of  humanity.  The  streets  were 
crowded  with  people.  Half  a  dozen  horse  auctions 
were  going  on.  Every  counter  had  its  gold  scales, 
and  every  man  his  buckskin  bag  of  gold  dust.  There 
was  the  rough  miner  in  slouch  hat,  woolen  shirt  and 
trousers  bulged  out  at  the  pockets  with  bags  of  *'dust." 
His  hair  and  whiskers  were  long  and  filled  with  dirt. 
There  was  the  gambler  in  broadcloth,  a  broad  rimmed 
black  hat,  a  "boiled  shirt,"  with  a  diamond  as  large 
as  a  hazel  nut.  There  were  women  gamblers,  be- 
rouged  and  bedecked  with  paint,  diamonds  galore, 
dressed  in  black  satin  or  gay  colored  silk  dresses. 
"Hurdy-Gurdy"  dances  held  sway  in  the  dance  halls, 
where  any  man  could  engage  a  partner  for  half  a 
pennyweight  in  "dust,"  and  pay  the  barkeeper  the 
same  for  drinks  for  himself  and  partner,  "one  turn." 
Greenbacks  passed  current  for  only  fifty  cents  on  the 
dollar.  The  medium  was  "gold  dust"  at  $18.00  an 
ounce.  Two  banks  bought  gold  dust  at  the  same  rate, 
and  paid  for  it  in  drafts  on  New  York,  for  the  mer- 
chants and  miners  were  always  sending  away  money. 
Sunday  was  pay  day,  when  the  bosses  met  all  their 
men  at  their  cabins,  built  of  logs,  and  weighed  out  the 
bright  new  dust  just  out  of  the  ground  they  had 
worked  in.  From  $5.00  to  $8.00  per  day  was  paid  to 
laborers,  and  $10.00  a  day  to  good  drifters. 
Earlier  in  the  season  occasionally  a  drunken 
ruffian  would  ride  his  horse  into  a  saloon,  and  begin 


Across  the  Plains  35 

shooting  the  heads  off  the  bottles,  with  a  revolver 
(everybody  carried  a  revolver) — and  breaking  the 
mirrors  to  "smithereens."  The  proprietor  dare  not  in- 
terfere, not  knowing  who  the  offender's  friends  might 
be  that  were  in  the  crowd.  It  seemed  the  very  off- 
scourings of  creation  were  there.  Men  were  robbed 
and  murdered  for  their  money.  There  was  a  reign  of 
terror  that  made  every  man  feel  that  his  life  was  in 
danger. 

'Vigilance  committee." 

Finally  in  the  early  spring  the  best  element  organ- 
ized a  ''vigilance  committee"  and  began  rounding  up 
the  desperadoes.  Pickets  surrounded  the  town  one 
night  and  when  they  closed  in  dozens  of  the  men 
wanted  were  in  the  drag  net.  The  committee  sat  all 
night  behind  closed  aoors.  About  daylight  the  cul- 
prits were  brought  before  them  and  in  less  than  an 
hour  sentences  were  passed.  Many  were  "banished," 
and  many  were  to  be  hanged.  About  daylight  that 
morning  some  of  them  were  dangling  from  the  frames 
of  unfinished  buildings  on  Main  street.  At  one  point, 
five  were  hanged  at  one  time.  The  good  work  went 
on.  The  country  was  scoured  for  one  hundred  miles 
around.  The  men  who  were  guilty  were  hanged 
wherever  found.  During  the  following  six  months, 
nearly  one  hundred  outlaws  had  paid  the  penalty  and 
the  morals  of  the  community  began  to  improve.  The 
only  mistakes  were  made  in  banishing  some  who  should 
have  been  hanged.  For  thieving  the  penalty  was 
forty  lashes  on  the  bare  back. 

My  cabin  was  half  way  between  Virginia  City  and 


36  Across  the  Plains 

the  little  town  of  Nevada.  Two  months  after  my  ar- 
rival imagine  my  surprise  one  night  on  hearing  the 
heavy  tramp  of  men  near  my  cabin.  Mr.  McNear  was 
sleeping  on  the  ground  near  me  and  could  not  resist 
an  investigation.  In  a  few  moments  he  returned  with 
this  bit  of  news;  "The  vigilantes  have  got  our  man 
'Chance,  the  Mermaid/  tied  to  the  whipping  post,  and 
are  giving  him  the  limit,  forty  lashes!" 

Poor  ''Chance !"  He  had  stolen  tools  from  a  miner's 
cabin,  and  was  paying  the  penalty.  He  was  a  better 
man  on  the  plains  than  in  the  wild  gold  camp.  On 
the  long  tedious  trip  no  one  had  complained  of  a  fault, 
and  for  the  good  there  was  in  him  he  was  duly  credited. 


NOTES  BY  THE  WAY. 

The  Indians  along  the  Platte,  as  far  as  Kearney, 
were  Pawnees  and  had  few  fire-arms.  Bows  and  ar- 
rows were  used  in  killing  buffalo.  The  Pawnees 
roamed  as  far  south  as  the  Republican  river,  where 
they  frequently  met  the  Sioux,  who  were  always  ready 
for  war.  From  Fort  Kearney  north  and  west  to  the 
Sweetwater  the  Sioux  claimed  the  country.  West 
of  them  was  the  Shoshone,  or  Snake  tribe,  as  far  as 
Snake  river,  then  came  the  Blackfeet  and  Flatheads, 
their  country  reaching  west  and  north  of  the  Snake. 
After  leaving  Fort  Kearney,  it  was  dangerous  to  travel 
in  small  parties  until  reaching  Snake  river.  The  Sioux 
were  in  an  ugly  mood.  When  they  came  to  our  camp, 
we  scarcely  knew  whether  it  was  to  look  us  over,  ex- 


Across  the  Plains  37 

pecting  to  return  at  daylight  and  attack  us,  or  not.  We 
were  afraid  to  treat  them  unfriendly  and  hence  we 
submitted  to  their  impudence  and  impositions.  Small 
outfits  ahead  of  us  were  frequently  attacked  and 
trains  that  followed  had  exciting  stories  to  relate  of 
their  continual  annoyance  by  the  Sioux.  When  no 
Indians  were  seen  the  sign  was  ominous.  While  in 
sight  it  was  easy  to  watch  their  movements.  There 
was  always  great  danger  in  the  country  of  the  Sioux. 

At  Fort  Laramie  we  were  greatly  surprised  at  the 
number  of  well  dressed  squaws  about  the  post.  The 
half  breed  children  showed  the  "early  settlement  of 
the  country  by  whites."  Indians  were  allowed  to  trade 
at  Fort  Laramie  then.  In  these  days  of  the  buffalo  the 
Indians  wore  these  robes  around  them.  Very  little  was 
known  about  ("Mazaska")  money.  It  was  barter  and 
trade.  A  dressed  buifalo  hide  was  valued  at  $2.00  to 
$5.00.  A  pony  was  worth  $25.00  to  $50.00  in  buffalo 
robes  at  the  above  prices.  Great  stress  was  laid  on 
white  buffalo — white  on  the  hump  and  down  on  the 
shoulders.  On  their  hunts  a  party  would  abandon 
a  herd  and  chase  a  white  buffalo  all  day  in  preference. 
It  was  "great  medicine,"  and  a  white  robe  was  "trade" 
for  twenty-five  to  fifty  ordinary  robes.  The  "beaver" 
or  "silk"  robes,  come  from  the  mountain  buffalo,  or 
bison,  that  ranged  only  in  the  mountain  country.  They 
were  smaller,  the  hair  being  shorter  and  more  even  in 
length,  and^,were  generally  killed  in  their  best  seasons, 
while  the  Indians  were  hunting  elk  and  deer.  I  saw  a 
bison  hide  freshly  killed,  dropped  from  a  hunter's  pack 
animal.  The  hunter  told  me  it  was  a  "bison,"  and 
sometimes  called  beaver  or  silk  robe.    We  could  "swap" 


38  Across  the  Plains 

a  sack  of  flour  for  a  pony  and  the  Indian  would  then 
steal  the  pony  before  next  daylight. 


A  FRESH  KILLED  MOOSE. 

In  the  winter  of  '65  and  '66  I  sold  goods  at  Silver 
Bow.  Thirty  miles  southwest,  towards  Deer  Lodge 
river,  gold  was  discovered  by  a  party  of  German  pros- 
pectors and  the  place  was  called  German  Gulch.  If 
there  is  any  one  thing  more  than  another,  that  will 
create  excitement  among  miners  it  is  the  vague  news 
that  "new  diggins"  have  been  struck.  The  farther 
away  they  are  the  more  eagerly  miners  and  others  will 
follow  them.  Curiosity  prompted  me  to  ride  over  and 
look  at  the  situation — only  thirty  miles  away.  I  made 
the  trip  and  return  between  "sun  and  sun."  As  I  rode 
down  the  mountain  side  a  party  of  miners  gath- 
ered around  a  fresh  killed  moose,  which  had  come 
down  the  mountains  in  the  night,  and  in  passing 
through  the  camp  and  crossing  a  drain  ditch,  fell  in. 
The  ditch  was  too  narrow  and  deep  for  him  to  climb 
out,  and,  being  cross  timbered,  he  could  neither  travel 
up  nor  down.  In  the  morning  when  the  miners  came 
to  work  they  found  him  cavorting  around  the  narrow 
space.  A  rope  was  thrown  over  his  horns  and  he  was 
dragged  up  to  the  surface.  His  first  move  was  to 
"charge"  the  crowd.  The  man  at  the  end  of  the  rope 
ran  around  a  tree  and  the  moose  followed  until  he 
wound  himself  around  the  tree  when  he  was  killed  with 


Across  the  Plains  39 

an  axe.    I  arrived  in  time  to  see  them  take  his  hide  off, 
and,  with  wooden  pegs,  pin  it  on  the  ground  to  dry. 


A   RICH    CLEAN-UP. 

Confederate  Gulch  was  about  thirty  miles  from 
Helena.  Shallow  placer  diggings  were  discovered 
there  in  1865.  It  was  more  profitable  to  "ground 
sluice"  with  hose ;  cut  the  banks  away  by  a  stream  of 
water  through  a  hose  and  nozzle,  and  carry  all  the  dirt 
through  sluice  boxes,  than  by  any  other  process,  work- 
ing the  bed  as  well  as  the  side  of  the  gulch.  This  kept 
two  crews  of  thirty  men  each  working  day  and  night. 
No  "clean  up"  was  made  until  the  end  of  three 
weeks,  then  all  the  sluices  were  cleaned  and  the 
false  bottoms  taken  up.  The  flour  gold  was  caught 
with  quicksilver,  the  coarse  gold  was  panned  out,  and 
put  in  gold  pans  set  along  in  a  double  row  on  the 
ground.  Each  pan  was  filled  to  the  brim,  a  gold  pan 
holding  about  two  gallons.  Except  for  its  bright,  rich, 
yellow  color,  the  gold  resembled  corn  meal.  This  was 
the  "clean  up,"  and  like  myself,  many  others  thought 
it  of  enough  consequence  to  carry  a  blanket  behind 
their  saddle,  take  along  some  "grub"  and  ride  horse- 
back thirty  miles  to  witness  it.  One  hundred  and  sev- 
enty-two thousand  dollars  in  clean,  bright  gold  dust 
was  the  result.  Such  a  sight  had  never  before  been 
seen   and  possibly  may  never  be  again. 


40  Across  the  Plains 

FAST  STAGING. 

A.  J.  Oliver  ran  a  daily  stage  line  from  Virginia 
City  to  Helena  in  '65.  I  was  buying  gold  dust  in  the 
banking  house  of  Nowlan  &  Weary  and  acted  as  Mr. 
Oliver's  agent.  When  the  stampede  to  Helena  on  the 
Prickly  Pear  gulch  began  I  was  sent  to  Helena  to 
open  a  branch  bank.  Wells,  Fargo  &  Company  also 
ran  a  stage  line  to  Helena  with  Concord  stages  and 
first  class  equipment.  The  Oliver  line  utilized  ranches 
along  the  road  for  stations  for  changing  horses,  about 
every  twelve  to  sixteen  miles.  The  horses,  princi- 
pally cayuses,  ran  loose  on  the  prairie,  few  of  them  be- 
ing broken  to  harness.  Six  horses  was  a  "change 
team."  The  wheelers  and  leaders  were  partly  broken 
to  harness  and  for  the  "swing"  or  middle  span  wild 
cayuses  were  caught  up  and  put  in — that  had  never 
known  a  harness.  With  the  wheelers  pushing  them 
and  the  leaders  dragging  them  there  was  nothing 
left  for  them  but  to  go  along.  In  the  early  winter  of 
'65  I  took  the  Oliver  line  at  Virginia  City  at  4  a.  m., 
and  just  as  the  sun  went  down  I  was  at  Helena,  145 
miles  away.  That  night  I  rented  a  window  space  ten 
feet  square  for  $100.00  per  month.  The  next 
morning  I  took  the  stage  at  4  o'clock  and  in 
the  evening  was  at  Virginia  City — 145  miles  again. 
That  night  I  gathered  an  armful  of  stationery  and  at 
4  the  next  morning  started  for  Helena,  arriving 
there  about  sundown,  making  three  trips  in  three  suc- 
cessive days  of  145  miles  each — ^435  miles.  In  the  three 
days'  travel  I  had  slept  not  to  exceed  ten  hours  out  of 
the  seventy-two.  By  10  a.  m.  the  fourth  day  I  was 
ready  for  business   and  began  buying  gold  dust.    My 


Across  the  Plains  41 

stationery  and  gold  scales  I  could  carry  in  an  ordinary 
valise. 

Half  a  mile  out  of  Helena,  on  the  regular  stage 
road,  stands  a  scraggy  pine  tree  called  Hangman's 
Tree  where  half  a  dozen  tough  characters  were  hang- 
ed from  time  to  time  by  "Vigilantes." 


THE  GOLD  MINERS*  MARKET. 

A  meat  market  in  Virginia  City  made  a  wonderful 
display  on  Christmas,  1864.  To  keep  within  bounds, 
I  can  safely  say  there  were  half  a  dozen  freshly  killed 
buffalo  and  as  many  buffalo  calves,  a  dozen  mountain 
sheep,  a  dozen  each  elk,  deer  and  antelope,  half  a  dozen 
mountain  lions,  two  mountain  bison,  half  a  dozen 
grizzly  bears,  weighing  six  hundred  to  a  thousand 
pounds  each,  and  as  many  small  black  bears,  sage, 
grouse  and  willow  or  sharp-tail  without  number.  In 
addition  to  all  this  there  was  a  larger  display  of  fine 
steer  beef  than  I  have  ever  seen  in  an  Omaha  market. 


A  MOUNTAIN  SHEEP  HEAD. 

In  February,  '66,  I  loaded  one  of  my  four-mule 
teams  with  provisions  and  started  for  Silver  Bow  to 
''open  a  store."  My  stock  consisted  of  a  few  bags  of 
flour,  worth  $45.00  for  98  pounds,  canned  goods,  ba- 


42  Across  the  Plains 

con,  sugar,  coffee,  gold  pans,  picks  and  shovels,  the 
latter  selling  in  Virginia  City  for  "one  ounce"  ($18.00) 
each.  The  one  wagon  load  was  worth  considerable 
''dust."  The  ground  was  covered  with  snow,  the 
streams  were  frozen  over  and  the  mercury  marked 
twenty-five  below  zero.  One  man  accompanied  me. 
As  he  had  spent  the  night  before  in  a  dance  hall  his 
services  were  not  of  much  account.  I  knew,  however, 
that  a  day  out  in  the  cold  would  sober  him  up  and  as 
no  one  else  was  available  I  took  him  along.  We 
crossed  the  Jefferson,  one  of  the  three  forks  of  the 
Missouri  river  and  drove  to  the  foot  of  the  main 
range  of  the  Rocky  mountains.  The  snow  increased, 
so  did  the  wind.  When  we  unhitched  and  tied  the 
mules  to  the  wagon  at  night  a  regular  **blizzard" 
struck  us.  There  was  no  water  and  as  the  only  fuel 
in  sight  was  green  willows  we  could  not  build  a  fire 
to  melt  snow  or  warm  by.  Under  the  wagon  bows, 
covered  by  canvas,  we  lay  down  on  a  mattress  on  top 
of  the  barrels  and  boxes  after  a  supper  of  frozen  can- 
ned peaches,  cold  bacon  and  crackers  and  worried 
through  until  daylight.  The  divide  was  so  gradual 
in  crossing  the  mountains  that  we  had  no  trouble  on 
this  account.  The  snow  had  drifted  as  high  as  the 
wagon  bows  and  we  had  to  shovel  our  way  through. 
At  the  top  of  the  mountain  a  ranchman  named  Mc- 
Cartey  had  built  a  good  house  of  logs  and  here  we 
took  shelter.  In  front  of  the  cabin  were  two  logs  set 
in  the  ground,  with  a  cross  log  laid  on,  to  hitch  horses 
to.  In  the  middle  of  this  top  log  was  the  head  of  a 
mountain  sheep.  Part  of  the  skull  and  one  horn  had 
been  grown  over  so  that  one  horn  and  part  of  the  skull 


Across  the  Plains  43 

was  all  that  could  be  seen.  The  ranchman  told  me 
when  he  found  this  head  it  was  thirty  feet  above  the 
ground.  His  theory  was  that  the  sheep  stood  on  ten 
or  more  feet  of  snow,  and  in  rubbing  his  head,  got  one 
horn  fast  around  the  tree,  and  could  not  free  himself. 
There  he  died.  All  his  bones  lay  at  the  foot  of  the  tree, 
and  from  its  growth  it  was  presumed  that  he  got 
caught  in  this  predicament  some  twenty  years  before. 
This  identical  skull  and  horns,  with  a  part  of  the  tree, 
can  at  this  date,  January,  1904,  be  seen  at  the  Union 
Pacific  headquarters  in  Omaha.  Near  this  ranch  I 
found  a  pair  of  "locked"  deer  horns.  Two  bucks  in 
fighting  had  gotten  their  horns  locked  so  they  could 
not  separate  and  they  died  there.  Their  bones  were 
lying  near  the  horns. 


TWO  THOUSAND  MILES  IN  AN 
OPEN  BOAT 

FROM  FORT  BENTON  TO  OMAHA. 

In  the  fall  of  '66,  miners  and  others  who  had  a 
"home  stake"  and  wanted  to  carry  their  gold  dust  to 
the  ''states,"  found  it  difficult  to  get  transportation. 
The  Indians  had  run  off  Wells,  Fargo  &  Company's 
stage  horses  between  Salt  Lake  and  Denver  and  the 
"road  agents"  were  "busy"  holding  up  stages  and  rob- 
bing passengers  between  Virginia  City  and  Salt  Lake. 
All  the  steamboats  had  left  Fort  Benton  early  in  July. 
After  that  water  on  Deadman's  Rapids  was  so  low 
that  navigation  was  practically  suspended.  The  only 
alternative  was  to  embark  from  Fort  Benton  in  small 
boats.  With  my  father,  who  had  come  out  the  year 
before,  we  left  Virginia  City  the  morning  of  August 
29th,  with  our  own  teams,  carrying  sixty  passengers 
for  Fort  Benton.  The  first  day  on  the  road  a  four- 
mule  team  turned  out  and  passed  us  on  a  dead  run. 
Besides  the  driver  there  were  six  men,  all  tough  look- 
ing characters,  armed  with  rifles  and  pistols.  They 
all  hung  their  heads  as  they  passed  us.  With  my 
teams  were  four  men,  late  members  of  the  vigilantes, 
who  recognized  two  of  the  men  the  vigilantes  had 
banished  from  Virginia  City  two  years  before.  It 
was  generally  believed  that  every  man  leaving  for  the 
"states"  at  that  season  of  the  year  carried  with  him  a 
"home  stake"  of  gold  dust    and  this  episode  aroused 


Two  Thousand  Miles  in  an  Open  Boat  45 

the  suspicion  of  all  my  passengers,  especially  that  of 
the  four  vigilantes.  One  of  two  things  was  cock  sure, 
either  the  strangers  followed  our  party  to  rob  us  or 
to  kill  the  vigilantes.  Fifty  thousand  dollars  in  gold 
dust  or  the  lives  of  four  men  was  the  stake.  When 
we  drove  to  Dearborn  river  we  camped  in  the  open, 
near  a  cut  bank  and  slept  with  our  clothes  on.  The 
guard  was  doubled  and  the  order  was  given  to  graze 
the  stock  until  dark  and  then  tie  every  animal  to  the 
wagon.  When  the  men  on  guard  came  in  at  mid- 
night, they  reported  seeing  four  mounted  men  leading 
two  horses  saddled,  crossing  the  river,  about  three 
hundred  yards  below  and  stopping  in  a  clump  of  trees 
near  the  bank.  The  strategy  of  McNear  was  to  at 
once  build  fires  and  let  them  know  our  camp  was 
alive  and  that  they  had  been  discovered.  There  was 
no  more  sleep  in  camp  the  rest  of  that  night. 

One  of  our  men  crept  down  under  the  river  bank 
within  fifty  yards  of  the  strangers  and  saw  them  dis- 
mount, then  suddenly  get  on  their  horses,  and  scurry 
away  to  the  south.  Had  they  been  friendly  travelers 
they  would  have  ridden  into  camp  and  made  them- 
selves known.  Nothing  more  was  seen  of  them  and 
we  arrived  at  Fort  Benton  without  further  incident. 

My  father,  E.  A.  Collins,  and  myself  purchased  two 
boats,  each  thirty  feet  long  and  six  feet  wide,  named 
respectively  "Cora  Bray"  and  "The  Hulk."  The  latter 
because  of  its  unwieldiness.  Each  boat  carried  twelve 
passengers.  They  were  built  by  Bill  Bivins,  who  later 
became  a  notorious  robber  and  desperado  and  who 
some  years  later  was  balked  in  trying  to  rob  my  store 


46  Two  Thousand  Miles  in  an  Open  Boat 

at  Fort  Laramie.    He  has  since  served  a  term  in  the 
Wyoming  penitentiary. 

Jim  McNear,  than  whom  no  more  faithful  compan- 
ion ever  drew  the  breath  of  life,  shipped  as  my 
"skipper."  My  father  was  in  charge  of  the  second 
boat  with  ten  other  passengers  and  their  baggage.  We 
were  ready  to  leave  Fort  Benton  on  September  ist. 
I  was  custodian  of  a  wooden  soap  box  that  contained 
eighty  pounds  of  gold  dust  and  gold  nuggets.  At 
midnight,  before  embarking,  McNear  carried  this  on 
board  and  placed  it  in  the  bow,  which  was  decked  over. 
He  slept  on  board  that  night.  Until  reaching  Sioux 
City  no  one  knew  that  this  gold  dust  was  on  board. 
Our  expectation  was  to  float  down  the  river.  For 
three  days  we  were  in  swift  water  and  made  good 
headway.  Then  the  river  widened  out  and  there  was 
no  perceptible  current.  This  day  one  of  our  htst  oars- 
men fell  overboard.  The  second  night  after  he  raved 
with  mountain  fever.  The  great  inconvenience  we 
suffered  from  this  incident  cannot  be  imagined  or  de- 
scribed. There  was  no  physician  nearer  than  Fort 
Berthold,  over  a  hundred  miles  below  at  the  mouth  of 
the  Yellowstone.  On  the  fourth  day  ice  froze  on  the 
edges  and  not  wanting  to  take  chances  of  being  frozen 
in  and  wintering  in  that  country  we  landed,  and  all 
hands  set  to  work  making  oars  out  of  young  ash  trees. 
Each  oar  when  finished  weighed  fifty  to  sixty  pounds. 
A  rowing  crew  was  organized.  E^ch  man  rowed  ev- 
ery other  half  hour  a  day,  and  when  we  ran  at  night, 
three  hours  for  each  man  every  other  night  was  his 
task.  Occasionally  we  passed  a  military  post,  which 
would  fire  a  cannon  shot  and  round  us  into  a  landing. 


Two  Thousand  Miles  in  an  Open  Boat  47 

The  officer  would  inform  us  where  hostile  Indians  were 
camped  and  not  permit  us  to  leave  until  one  hundred 
men  were  together.  Boats  were  so  numerous  that  one 
day's  delay  sufficed.  Hostile  Indians  usually  camped 
in  a  sharp  bend  of  the  river  where  the  current  set  near 
the  bank  on  their  shore.  We  made  runs  past  these 
bends  in  the  night.  With  such  precaution,  the  entire 
trip  of  twenty-one  hundred  miles  was  made  without 
being  attacked,  although  boats  ahead  and  behind  us 
dodged  arrows  frequently. 

FLOATING   MEAT   MARKET. 

With  our  fleet  of  boats  that  left  the  last  military 
landing  was  a  small  scow  with  three  men  and  with  a 
light  load  they  could  easily  pull  away  from  us.  Two 
of  the  men  would  go  ashore  and  hunt  across  the  bends 
and  drag  their  game  to  the  bank  beyond,  the  man  with 
the  scow  would  land  and  pick  them  up  with  the  game 
they  had  killed,  consisting  of  elk  and  deer  and  occa- 
sionally a  buffalo  and  mountain  sheep.  They  supplied 
our  party  with  fresh  game.  Buffalo  at  two  dollars  for 
a  quarter,  elk  one  dollar,  deer  fifty  cents.  While  the 
fleet  of  boats  remained  near  each  other  there  was  a 
good  demand  for  all  the  game  they  killed  and  they 
would  earn  two  or  three  dollars  a  day  per  man.  It  was 
rather  an  amusing  sight  to  see  the  little  craft  pull 
along  side  a  boat,  unload  a  quarter  of  game,  weigh  out 
the  gold  dust  from  the  buyer,  and  go  on  to  the  next 
boat.  The  market  supplied  us  for  nearly  two  weeks 
with  fresh  game  and  there  was  no  necessity  for  us  to 
waste  time  in  hunting. 

WINTERING    INDIAN    PONIES. 

Some  of  the  bottom  lands  below  the  mouth  of  the 
Musselshell  were  covered  with  forests  of  large  cotton- 


4&  Two  Thousand  Miles  in  an  Open  Boat 

wood  trees,  measuring  four  to  five  feet  in  diameter, 
among  them  a  smaller  growth  of  saplings  and  under- 
brush. The  Indians  made  their  winter  camps  of  large 
villages  here,  as  the  snow  fall  in  the  timber  was  three 
to  four  feet — the  only  feed  for  their  immense  bands 
of  ponies  was  cottonwood  bark.  The  young  saplings 
were  cut  down  and  left  in  scattering  piles  around  the 
village  and  the  ponies  pealed  the  bark  from  these 
young  trees  and  lived  on  it  the  entire  winter.  By  the 
time  the  steamboats  arrived  at  these  camping  places  in 
the  spring  the  Indians  had  moved  away  and  a  sup- 
ply of  dry  fuel  was  ready  to  take  on  board.  Where 
the  river  ran  between  two  ranges  of  hills  it  was  nar- 
row and  in  the  month  of  September  we  saw  large 
cakes  of  ice  lodged  seventy  and  eighty  feet  above  the 
river  surface  that  had  been  left  there  when  the  river 
gorged  in  the  breakup  in  the  spring.  This  was  a 
hundred  miles  above  where  steamboats  landed  and  put 
off  supplies  for  the  military  post,  Fort  Totten,  near 
Devil's  lake,  a  hundred  miles  east  of  the  landing,  and 
the  quartermaster's  teams  hauled  them  from  the  river 
to  the  post. 

When  we  left  the  last  military  landing  the  wind  was 
fair  and  the  current  strong.  The  sail  was  set  and 
in  order  to  take  every  advantage  and  make  rapid  head- 
way, with  the  six  oars,  we  sped  along  at  eight  or  nine 
miles  an  hour.  Rounding  a  sharp  bend,  late  in  the  day, 
we  expected  to  tie  up  here  and  make  the  run  past  the 
Indian  camp  ahead  of  us  when  night  came  on.  Imag- 
ine our  surprise  when  several 

INDIAN  LODGES  LOOMED  UP 

half  a  mile  ahead  of  us.     It  was  too  late  to  check 


Two  Thousand  Miles  in  an  Open  Boat  49 

our  speed  and  land.  We  were  in  the  current  sweeping 
down  the  bend  close  to  the  bank.  Our  boats  had  no 
keel  and  a  flat  bottom  could  not  be  easily  handled  in 
the  current.  We  decided  to  take  chances  of  running 
past  the  Indian  camp.  We  had  on  board  a  man  who 
belonged  to  one  of  the  Indian  trading  stores  down  the 
river.  He  and  his  companion  were  on  their  way  down 
in  a  small  skiff.  In  a  high  wind  their  boat  was  driven 
on  rocks  in  the  rapids  and  was  swamped.  One  of  the 
men  swam  ashore  and  was  rescued  by  the  boat  ahead 
of  us.  The  other  could  not  swim,  but  clung  to  the 
boat  which  was  carried  by  the  wind  onto  an  island. 
As  we  approached  the  island  he  hailed  us  and  we  took 
him  aboard.  He  could  talk  Sioux  and  seemed  to 
know  where  all  the  hostiles  were  camped  along  the 
river.  He  was  familiar  with  the  camp  we  were  near- 
ing  and  believed  we  could  run  by  it  without  being  no- 
ticed, as  no  one  was  visible.  Scarcely  had  we  come 
opposite  the  lodges  when  a  dozen  dogs  broke  loose 
and  their  continual  barking  brought  some  of  the 
squaws  out.  They  hallooed  to  us  and  motioned  for  us 
to  come  on  shore.  They  said  the  bucks  were  all  out 
hunting  a  band  of  buffalo  and  had  fired  the  prairie 
to  drive  them  towards  camp.  The  squaw  man,  whom 
we  had  rescued,  told  us  that  was  only  a  trap  and  the 
sooner  we  got  out  of  reach  the  safer  we  would  be,  so 
we  got  away  as  soon  as  possible.  Before  losing  sight 
of  their  camp  as  many  as  forty  bucks  came  out  of  the 
lodges  and  waved  at  us.  The  squaw  man  informed 
us  that  the  bucks  had  purposely  kept  out  of  sight 
thinking  the  squaws  might  induce  us  to  land  and  we 
would  then  fall  easy  victims.    We  were  the  first  of  the 


50  Two  Thousand  Miles  in  an  Open  Boat 

fleet  of  boats  to  pass  this  camp  in  daylight  and  we  had 
a  narrow  escape. 

A  MASS  OF  BUFFALOES. 

When  we  rounded  into  the  great  bend  of  the  Mis- 
souri six  buffalo  jumped  from  the  bank  and  swam 
across,  not  two  hundred  yards  ahead  of  us.  While 
watching  them  scramble  up  the  bank  on  the  opposite 
shore  our  attention  was  attracted  to  a  black  moving 
mass,  less  than  half  a  mile  from  the  river  bank.  So 
dense  was  the  pack  it  resembled  miles  of  burnt  prai- 
rie. It  was  a  mass  of  buffaloes  reaching  away  to  the 
horizon,  and  extending  for  miles  along  the  river.  Our 
boat  was  abreast  of  the  herd  over  one  hour.  It  was 
one  of  the  vast  herds  that  roamed  north  of  the  Mis- 
souri river  as  far  as  the  British  possessions.  It  was 
a  sight  that  few  men  have  seen  even  in  the  palmiest 
buffalo  days. 

One  day  our  provision  supply  was  reduced  to  bacon 
and  coffee.  We  landed  at  a  wild  plum  grove  and 
found  an  abundance  of  the  fruit  and  also  wild  cherries 
and  bull  berries.  The  next  day  we  replenished  our 
provision  supply  at  the  trading  store  of  a  French 
trader  on  the  bank  of  the  river.  I  bought  several  bales 
of  buffalo  robes  to  place  along  the  sides  of  the  boat  to 
protect  our  oarsmen  from  Indian  arrows.  This 
trader  had  built  a  stockade  of  posts,  set  on  end,  and 
inside  were  log  huts  and  warehouses  for  storing  goods. 
The  structure  was  proof  against  attack  by  Indians.  In 
trading  he  received  the  robes  and  furs  through  an 
opening  in  the  stockade  and  passed  out  the  goods  the 
same  way.     Indians  were  not  allowed  inside,  except 


Two  Thousand  Miles  in  an  Open  Boat  51 

perhaps  a  chief  or  an  Indian  who  directed  the  trading-. 
Here  we  bought  dried  buffalo  tongues  at  fifty  cents 
per  dozen.  They  could  be  had  in  quantities  of  a  thou- 
sand or  more  at  a  less  price.  The  Indians  along  the 
upper  Missouri,  when  buffaloes  were  abundant,  used 
the  meat  to  make  "pemmican."  The  lean  was  cut  in 
pieces  and  the  fat  heated  and  poured  over  it.  Bags 
were  made  of  green  buffalo  hide — the  hair  side  out — 
sewed  with  green  hide  strips.  The  meat  and  fat  were 
sewed  up  in  sacks  weighing  about  one  hundred  and 
forty  pounds  each.  When  cold  the  package  was  as 
indestructible  as  a  bag  of  sand.* 

^^  FRENCH    HALF-BREEDS. 

A  tribe  of  nomads,  half  French  and  half  Indian, 
lived  north  of  Fort  Union,  above  the  mouth  of  the  Yel- 
lowstone. They  were  called  French  half-breeds. 
Once  a  year  this  picturesque  caravan  came  from  near 
the  British  line  to  Fort  Berthold  to  trade.  Each  In- 
dian drove  a  single  ox  harnessed  with  strips  of  buffalo 
hide  to  a  two-wheeled  cart,  the  entire  cart,  tires,  wheels 
and  axles,  all  being  made  of  wood.  Not  a  nail  or  piece 
of  metal  of  any  kind  was  used  in  their  construction. 
The  screeching  of  the  wheels  could  be  heard  for  miles. 
The  carts  were  loaded  with  dressed  buffalo  hides  and  a 
part  of  their  return  freight  was  "pemmican."  (The 
Dacotah  name  for  this  food  is  "wasna.")     From  five 

•Later  I  visited  at  old  Fort  Peck  when  the  agent  was 
about  to  move  the  agrency  down  to  Grand  River,  Inside 
the  stockade  was  a  pile  of  pemmican  about  as  large  as  a  stem 
wheel  steamboat.  The  trader  had  traded  for  it  from  the 
Upper  Missouri  Indians.  The  United  States  agent  in  turn 
bought  it  from  the  trader  for  issue  back  to  the  Indians  for 
winter  food  in  case  a  hard  winter  and  deep  snow  prevented 
driving  beef  cattle  in  for  issue. 


52  Two  Thousand  Miles  in  an  Open  Boat 

hundred  to  a  thousand  composed  a  train.  The  carts 
were  driven  by  men — few  women  and  children  accom- 
panying them. 

Fort  Berthold  was  the  steamboat  landing  for  the 
military  post,  Fort  Totten,  near  Devil's  lake,  the  dis- 
tance about  one  hundred  miles  in  the  interior.  During 
the  winter  the  only  communication  from  Fort  Ber- 
thold to  Devil's  lake  and  also  from  Berthold  to 
Fort  Benton  was  by  dogs  and  sledges,  with  half- 
breeds,  or  Uncpapa  Indians  for  drivers — ^same 
as  the  method  employed  in  Alaska  and  the  arctic. 
When  we  reached  Fort  Berthold  my  father  went  to 
headquarters  and  hunted  up  the  medical  officer.  From 
him  he 

PROCURED   A   PINT   OF   WHISKEY 

for  the  sick  man.  On  our  arrival  at  Omaha,  he  found  a 
letter  from  the  doctor  saying  that  "one  of  the  officers 
here  had  reported  to  the  war  department  that  the  medi- 
cal officer  was  selling  whiskey  to  citizens,"  and  asking, 
"if  he  would  state  the  circumstance  clearly  and  aid  him 
in  clearing  it  up."  General  Grant  was  then  in  Washing- 
ton and  my  father  wrote  to  him  explaining  the  matter. 
In  due  course  of  mail,  the  General  replied  that  the 
War  department  would  immediately  take  the  matter 
up,  and  an  inquiry  be  made  as  to  why  the  officer 
should  not  appear  before  a  court  martial  and  make  the 
charge  more  definite,  or  fully  establish  the  facts 
stated. 

The  trader's  clerk  at  Fort  Peck  was  "Club  Foot 
George,"  whose  two  feet  were  "clubbed."  The  winter 
previous  he  had  started  for  Fort  Benton  on  horseback, 
with  one  pony,  packing  his  provisions,  etc.     Several 


Two  Thousand  Miles  in  an  Open  Boat  53 

miles  below  Benton  his  pony  left  him  in  a  snow  storm. 
His  only  safety  lay  in  walking  the  distance  through  a 
foot  of  snow  and  passed  near  an  Indian  camp  in  the 
night.  The  next  morning  the  Indians  discovered  the 
trail  left  in  the  snow  by  his  club  feet  and  not  under- 
standing it  immediately  organized  a  hunting  party  to 
follow  the  trail  and  kill  the  strange  animal  that  made 
it.  It  was  lucky  for  George  that  he  was  found  in  Fort 
Benton. 

PETRIFIED  TREES. 

Above  Grand  River,  where  we  landed  for  plums  and 
berries,  a  short  distance  from  the  grove,  was  a  hill 
covered  with  cactus  and  soapweed.  Petrified  stumps 
and  trunks  of  trees,  ten  to  twenty  inches  in  diameter 
covered  the  hillside.  Owing  to  shallow  water 
steamboats  could  not  land  near  here  and  very  little  was 
known  of  this  bed  of  petrifications.  It  was  "Bad 
Lands"  and  sand  hills  and  near  hostile  Indians.  One 
hundred  miles  below  the  mouth  of  the  Yellowstone 
river,  on  the  east  bank  of  the  Missouri,  was  Fort  Ber- 
thold,  a  cantonment  of  United  States  troops,  and  also 
a  trading  store  and  a  band  of  miserable  Minneconjou 
Indians.  The  huts  of  the  Indians  were  made  entirely 
of  sod  or  adobe,  shaped  cone  fashion,  like  the  ice  huts 
of  the  Esquimaux.  The  Indians  were  a  squalid  lot  of 
lazy  and  dirty  people.  A  sun  dance  was  going  on  when 
we  landed  to  get  a  supply  of  provisions.  The  wind 
was  fair  for  sailing  and  we  lost  no  time  in  getting 
away,  and  saw  nothing  of  the  dance. 

A  few  Indians  used  bull  boats  for  crossing  the  river. 
A  green  buffalo  hide  stretched  over  a  frame  of  willows, 
circular  in  form,  about  two  feet  deep,  would  carry  an 


54  Two  Thousand  Miles  in  an  Open  Boat 

Indian  family  of  about  six  hundred  pounds.  One  In- 
dian sat  near  the  edge  and  paddled  towards  him,  other- 
wise the  tub  would  only  turn  around. 

A  SCHOOL  OF  SNAGS. 

Two  hundred  miles  above  Yankton  we  ran  into 
schools  of  snags  and  could  make  no  runs  after  night. 
It  being  important  to  get  into  civilization  again,  we 
made  a  head-light  from  a  lard  can  and  used  candles, 
thinking  this  would  enable  us  to  see  far  enough  ahead 
to  avoid  snags.  On  the  stern  of  our  boat  we  put  out 
a  red  light  to  guide  the  boat  behind  us.  The  first  night 
we  landed  and  prepared  supper  on  shore,  and  a  light 
supper  it  was — we  had  bacon  and  coffee  only. 

An  hour  after  we  had  pushed  away  from  shore, 
heavy  clouds  darkened  the  sky  and  it  became  so  dark 
we  could  scarcely  distinguish  the  water  from  the  sky. 
While  we  "stood  by  the  oars"  we  let  the  current  carry 
us.  Suddenly  a  school  of  snags  loomed  up  ahead  of 
the  light  and  before  the  oars  could  be  handled  the 
"Cora  Bray"  drifted  onto  two  snags.  We  floated  over 
the  first  and  onto  the  second,  which  stood  a  foot  above 
the  water  line.  The  boat  swung  broadside  across  the 
current  between  the  two  snags.  The  swift  current 
raised  the  upperside  of  the  boat  and  the  lowerside 
lowered  proportionately,  so  that  the  entire  crew  had 
to  move  to  the  upperside,  to  prevent  being  swamped. 
The  water  was  ten  feet  deep.  We  were  two  hundred 
feet  from  shore.  The  "Hulk"  lost  sight  of  our  light 
and  landed,  fearing  we  had  swamped. 

We  were  in  a  dangerous  position.  As  usual  the 
good  judgment  of  McNear  pointed  out  a  way  of  re- 


Two  Thousand  Miles  in  an  Open  Boat  55 

leasing  the  boat.  (His  suggestions  were  usually  fol- 
lowed by  his  doing  the  work  himself.)  With  a  hand- 
saw he  leaned  over  the  side,  reached  the  full  length 
of  his  arm  under  water  and  began  sawing  the  snag  off 
below  the  bottom.  This  occupied  about  two  hours. 
When  the  snag  parted,  the  boat  drifted  onto  the  end 
of  the  stump,  and  there  it  rested  in  greater  peril  than 
before.  The  constant  rocking  might  wear  a  hole  in 
the  bottom  and  scuttle  our  craft.  Then  the  chance  of 
any  of  us  escaping  hung  by  a  slender  thread.  We  be- 
gan calHng  for  the  "Hulk."  Soon  they  answered  and 
slowly  drifted  toward  us,  keeping  near  the  shore. 
When  opposite  they  made  fast  to  a  snag.  Being  at 
close  speaking  distance  we  planned  that  the  other 
boat  should  land,  unload,  and  haul  two  hundred  yards 
up  stream;  then  drift  slowly  down,  throw  a  rope  to 
us,  and  then  by  maniiing  their  oars,  pull  us  off.  All 
this  occupied  over  two  hours.  The  first  pull  moved 
the  boat  so  the  stern  swung  down  the  current.  There 
was  a  heavy  weight  in  the  bow  that  held  us  on  the 
snag.  Again  the  other  boat  went  ashore,  hauled  up 
stream  and  drifted  past  us.  Still  our  boat  hung  on 
the  bow.  No  less  than  a  dozen  trips  were  made  in 
this  way  before  we  were  finally  released.  We  landed 
and  spent  the  rest  of  the  night  on  shore.  As  I  sat  on 
a  log  near"  a  camp  fire  McNear  sat  down  beside  me. 
He  nudged  me  with  his  elbow  and  said :  "Wasn't  that 
a  close  shave  for  the  soap  box?" 

The  next  day  we  passed  snags  on  all  sides.  When 
night  came,  we  landed  alongside  a  dead  tree  and  built 
a  fire  to  cook  our  last  rations  of  bacon  and  coffee.  So 
far  as  we  knew    we  were  two  hundred  miles  from 


56  Two  Thousana  Miles  in  an  Open  Boat 

where  we  could  replenish.  One  of  our  men  strolled 
along  the  river  bank  around  a  sharp  bend.  Suddenly 
he  called  out  at  the  top  of  his  voice.  We  were  away 
from  the  Indian  country  and  could  not  imagine  the 
cause  of  it,  but  lost  no  time  in  going  to  him.  Long 
rows    of    lights    were    seen    about    a    mile  below  us. 

A  STEAMBOAT. 

Returning  to  camp  we  hastily  loaded  on  our 
bedding,  etc.,  and  with  all  on  board,  we  again 
swung  into  the  current.  All  hands  were  guessing  on 
the  direction  the  steamboat  was  bound.  If  going  down, 
we  could  not  overtake  her;  if  coming  up,  we  would 
be  no  better  off.  When  discovered  she  was  tied 
up  at  the  bank,  and  we  made  our  craft  fairly  "whiz"  in 
the  current  towards  her.  It  was  the  steamer  Enter- 
prise, from  Yankton,  loaded  with  supplies  for  the  up- 
river  military  posts.  She  had  tied  up  for  the  night. 
Our  landing  was  made  just  above  her  bow,  where  we 
built  a  fire.  I  was  sent  on  board  to  prospect  for  pro- 
visions. On  the  lower  deck  a  watchman  directed  me 
up  to  the  "Texas"  to  find  the  mate,  who  was  on  watch. 
It  was  after  midnight.  He  was  alone  and  smoking  a 
pipe.  I  explained  who  we  were  and  our  condition  as  to 
provisions,  not  forgetting  to  tell  him  that  every  man 
of  our  party  of  twenty-six  people  had  gold  dust  to 
pay  for  anything  he  would  supply  us  with  to  carry  us 
to  Yankton,  a  two  days'  run. 

"When  did  you  run  short  of  grub?"  he  asked.  I 
answered  promptly:  "We  are  not  short  of  grub;  we 
are  entirely  out."  "The  h— 11 !"  he  said,  "let's  go  wake 
up  the  steward." 


Two  Thousand  Miles  in  an  Open  Boat  57 

I  followed  him  with  the  eagerness  of  a  hungry 
poodle  down  into  the  cabin  and  then  to  the  pantry. 
Never  before  in  my  life  did  a  steamboat  pantry  have 
the  attraction  this  one  had.  The  bread  and  cracker 
drawers  were  ransacked.  An  immense  fish  pan  was 
filled  from  them,  two  boiled  hams,  some  bacon,  two 
large  coffee  boilers  of  coffee — as  much  as  the  steward 
and  myself  could  carry — ^but  it  seemed  to  me  I  was 
never  so  strong  before  and  could  carry  almost  my  own 
weight    in  provisions. 

When  all  was  prepared  I  handed  the  mate  my 
buckskin  bag  of  gold  dust  and  said,  "Help  yourself, 
captain,  as  liberally  as  you  have  helped  us."  "Give 
the  steward  a  little  nugget  for  a  breastpin,  and  we  will 
be  square,"  said  he.  The  steward  got  the  nugget  for 
his  scarf  pin.  The  mate  was  also  remembered  in  a 
substantial  way. 

When  Sioux  City  was  reached,  some  of  our  passen- 
gers left  the  boat  and  took  the  stage  for  their  homes 
in  the  east,  after  a  journey  of  two  thousand  miles  in 
an  open  boat,  made  in  thirty  days,  without  accident,  if 
we  except  the  illness  of  the  one  man  who  fell  over- 
board, who  had  suffered  from  mountain  fever  for  three 
weeks. 

It  was  frequently  necessary  for  all  hands  to  jump 
into  the  water  waist  deep  and  push  the  boat  off  a  sand- 
bar. With  the  exception  of  high  winds  and  a  shower 
one  day  the  weather  was  the  beautiful  Indian  sum- 
mer from^ beginning  to  end. 

At  the  mouth  of  the  Niobrara  river,  a  detachment 
of  troops  were  stationed.  They  were  at  target  prac- 
tice when  we  passed    and  as  we  heard  the  shooting, 


58  Two  Thousand  Miles  in  an  Open  Boat 

before  coming  in  sight  it  caused  us  no  little  alarm,  we 
thinking  it  was  Indians. 

The  wonderful  sights  of  buffalo,  elk,  mountain 
sheep  and  deer,  together  with  the  almost  constant 
spice  of  danger  through  the  hostile  Indian  country, 
cause  me  to  look  back  upon  the  journey  with  greater 
pleasure  than  I  do  on  any  other  of  my  varied  experi- 
ences of  travel  by  land  or  sea. 


A  HERD  OF  MULES 

AND  WHAT  BECAME  OF  THEM. 

In  February,  1868,  the  Union  Pacific  road  had 
been  completed  to  Cheyenne,  and  I  went  from  Omaha 
by  train.  There  I  took  Gilmer  &  Salisbury's  stage 
via  Denver  for  Salt  Lake  thence  by  Wells-Fargo  & 
Co.'s  stage  to  Helena,  Montana,  to  arrange  for  sending 
my  herd  of  nearly  a  hundred  mules,  that  had  been 
freighting  there,  down  along  the  line  of  the  railroad 
grading,  after  the  grass  had  started.  The  snow  was 
deep  on  Laramie  plains,  and  on  Rattlesnake  moun- 
tains. My  only  fellow  passenger  was  a  Mr.  Frothing- 
ham,  going  to  San  Francisco,  where  he  owned  a  line 
of  sailing  vessels.  He  told  me  his  occupation  was 
trading  in  ** Coolies"  in  the  southern  islands.  His 
method  of  loading  them  was  similar  to  "pack- 
ing sardines,"  and  for  food  he  gave  them  plum  duff, 
with  the  plums  left  out.  He  was  rather  ponderous 
of  build,  with  a  fresh  and  tender  face  and  silver  gray 
hair  and  more  suited  to  life  on  the  sea  than  following 
a  stage  coach  on  foot,  on  snow  ten  feet  deep  over  the 
mountains.  We  got  along  fairly  well  as  far  as  old 
Fort  Bridger.  Jack  Gilmer,  one  of  the  partners,  drove 
us  from  here,  and  after  supper  at  10  o'clock  at  night 
on  canned  tomatoes,  half  cooked  beans  which  at  that 
altitude  could  scarcely  be  cooked  tender  without  the 
addition  of  soda,  we  went  to  bed.  The  biscuits  were  of 
tough  dark  dough  with  a  burned  crust  around  them 
and  about  as  indigestible  as  a  ball  of  mud.    They  were 


60  A  Herd  of  Mules 

called  "dobies."  We  went  to  bed  in  a  station — ^  cabin 
built  of  logs.  All  the  partitions  were  of  common  mus- 
lin cloth.  The  beds  had  a  tick  filled  with  hay,  no  sheets, 
and  the  covers  were  the  cheapest  cotton  comforts.  One 
with  its  weight  would  not  keep  you  warm,  and  two 
would  weight  you  down,  so  sleep  was  out  of  question. 
We  had  scarcely  got  warmed  up  in  bed  when  we  were 
called  to  start  again  and  go  over  the  snow  while 
the  frozen  crust  would  bear  up  the  stage.  We  pulled 
ourselves  together  and  again  resumed  our  journey. 
When  we  reached  the  spurs  of  the  Wasatch  moun- 
tains the  moon  was  full,  the  night  was  almost  as  light 
as  day,  the  temperature  far  below  zero.  After  day- 
light, when  the  sun  came  up,  the  top  crust  of  the  snow 
began  to  soften  and  occasionally  a  mule  would  sink 
one  foot  in,  or  a  wheel  break  through,  and  the  driver 
told  us  we  must  get  out  and  lighten  up  or  we  would 
get  stuck  in  the  snow.  He  also  informed  us  there 
was  a  "swing"  station  five  miles  ahead  with  a  stove  in 
the  stable  where  the  stock  tender  slept  and  where  we 
would  change  horses — a  mild  invitation  to  get  out  and 
walk.  We  climbed  out  and  going  on  ahead,  left  the 
driver  to  his  fate.  Soon  we  found  it  necessary  to 
blacken  our  cheeks  with  charcoal  and  wear  a  silk 
handkerchief  over  our  faces  to  prevent  snow  blind- 
ness. Before  reaching  the  station  we  sank  in  the  soft 
snow  and  wallowed  through  to  the  top  of  a  long,  steep 
hill  and  here  the  crust  of  snow  was  getting  soft  and 
we  lay  down  and  rolled  over  and  over  to  the  bottom 
like  a  barrel — a  much  easier  way  of  getting  down  than 
trying  to  walk.  At  the  station  we  found  a  Mormon 
with  a  span  of  mules  and  a  wagon  loaded  with  coops 


A  Herd  of  Mules  61 

of  live  chickens,  who  had  been  there  four  days  snow- 
bound. It  was  nearly  noon  when  the  stage  arrived. 
Meanwhile  we  bought  some  chickens  from  the  Mor- 
mon, dressed  them  and  put  them  into  a  camp  kettle 
to  cook,  as  there  was  no  food  at  the  station.  We  ate 
the  chickens  about  half  cooked,  as  the  stage  must  go 
on  to  a  "home"  station  about  sixteen  miles  away.  About 
half  of  this  distance  we  walked  and  lifted  and  tugged 
to  help  the  stage  over  the  bad  crossings.  My  fellow 
passenger  became  entirely  snow  blind  and  was  obliged 
to  get  into  the  stage  and  remain  there.  We  spent  the 
second  night  going  over  the  snow  crust  and  reached 
the  head  of  Echo  canyon.  Here  we  were  transferred 
to  a  lumber  wagon  and  changed  drivers.  When  we 
arrived  at  Salt  Lake  City,  my  fellow  passenger's  face, 
neck  and  ears  had  become  one  mass  of  blisters  from  the 
reflection  of  the  sun  on  the  snow  and  when  we  parted 
at  Salt  Lake  his  face  resembled  a  man  in  the  last 
stages  of  smallpox.  He  was  not  able  to  resume  his 
journey  for  four  weeks. 

After  resting  a  day  I  took  the  stage  north  for 
Helena.  On  this  route  all  the  gullies  and  ravines 
were  blown  full  of  snow  and  at  the  bottom  of  them 
ran  a  stream  of  melted  snow  and  slush.  The  driver 
must  push  on  and  paid  no  attention  to  these  obstacles 
and  into  them  he  would  drive  the  leaders.  At  times 
they  were  belly  deep  in  water  and  slush  and  the  snow 
up  to  their  backs.  \i  the  ravines  were  narrow  the 
leaders  would  soon  flounder  to  the  bank,  dragging  the 
wheelers  after  them.  Sometimes  the  four  mules  were 
unhitched  and  taken  to  the  opposite  bank.  A  long 
rope  was  tied  to  the  doubletrees,  the  other  end  being 


62  A  Herd  of  Mules 

attached  to  the  end  of  the  tongue  to  pull  the  coach  out. 
They  could  not  always  move  the  coach.  In  this  event 
the  passengers  and  driver  would  mount  the  harnessed 
mules  and  ride  from  one  to  ten  miles,  as  the  case  might 
be,  to  the  station  ahead  and  get  the  company's  men  to 
ride  back  with  extra  men  and  stock,  pull  the  coach 
out  and  come  on  to  the  station.  These  instances  were 
not  rare,  especially  where  the  road  led  through  Port- 
neuf  canyon.  Nothing  could  be  worse  than  the  meals 
served  along  the  route.  On  account  of  the  snow  the 
coach  could  carry  nothing  but  live  freight  and  all  the 
stations  were  low  on  provisions.  We  reached  Helena 
safely.  Mr.  Pat  Largey  had  my  mules  on  pasture  at 
his  ranch  near  Helena,  also  a  lot  belonging  to  Mr. 
Edward  Creighton,  and  we  arranged  to  send  them  all 
in  one  herd  overland,  direct  to  Carbon  on  the  Union 
Pacific  railroad,  when  grass  came.  The  herd  was 
placed  in  charge  of  *' Billy"  Hurlbert  and  four  men, 
one  of  whom  was  M.  J.  Feenan,  now  living  in  Omaha. 
It  would  make  little  difference  by  what  route  they 
drove  the  mules.  The  danger  was  about  equal,  for 
the  Indians  were  in  an  ugly  humor  because  of  the 
building  of  the  railroad  and  the  immense  travel  to  the 
gold  mines  by  every  route  from  all  directions. 

Hbrlbert  left  Helena  about  April  15th,  1868.  For 
some  reason  unknown  to  me  a  gray  mare  is  always 
chosen  for  a  bell  mare  for  all  pack  trains  and  loose 
mule  herds  while  being  driven  and  there  was  no  ex- 
ception in  this  case.  The  route  from  Helena  was 
on  the  Salt  Lake  trail.  Pleasant  Valley,  Camas 
Prairie,  Market  lake,  fording  Snake  river  at  old  Fort 
Hall,   Montpelier,   Soda   Springs,   Sublet  Cut-Off  to 


A  Herd  of  Mules  63 

Green  River,  then  up  Bitter  Creek  to  Point  of  Rocks, 
then  following  the  Union  Pacific  survey  to  Carbon, 
Wyoming.  The  drive  was  made  in  thirty  days  with- 
out the  loss  of  an  animal  and  no  accident  to  the  men. 
The  only  incident  on  the  drive  was  the  trouble  in  hold- 
ing the  herd  at  night,  only  one  man  standing  guard  the 
first  half  and  he  was  relieved  by  one  man  for  the  latter 
half.  Mr.  Creighton  was  at  Carbon  to  re- 
ceive them,  and  at  once  began  arrange- 
ments to  have  the  mules  shod,  provide  harness  and 
put  them  at  work  on  the  grade.  The  harness  was 
delayed  en  route  by  the  railroad  and  the  herd  was  sent 
out  on  the  prairie  about  a  mile  from  camp  to  graze, 
in  charge  of  Jack  Strode.  After  they  had  been  out 
about  two  weeks  a  band  of  Sioux  Indians  in  broad 
daylight  rode  into  the  herd,  surrounded  it,  shook  their 
blankets  and  with  their  unearthly  yells,  stampeded 
every  animal  in  Strode's  charge,  leaving  him  to  find  his 
way  into  camp,  luckily  escaping  with  his  life.  Charles 
H.  Rickards,  who  came  down  with  the  herd  and  was 
with  the  stock  when  it  ran  off,  at  once  went  with  men 
out  on  the  trail  and  followed  it  about  sixty  miles,  think- 
ing the  thieves  were  road  agents  disguised  as  Indians 
— a  frequent  occurrence.  They  followed  the  trail  all 
night  in  the  direction  of  Elk  mountain  and  on  to  the 
Platte  river,  where  they  discovered  a  large  camp  of 
Indians  on  the  opposite  bank  and  gave  up  the  chase. 
All  these  adventures  had  an  abrupt  termination,  for 
not  a  head  of  stock  was  recovered,  and  the  whole 
matter  ended  there.  Only  one  day  before  the 
Indians  stampeded  the  stock,  M^r.  Creighton  was 
in  Omaha.    He  dropped  into  my  store  in  the  morning 


64  A  Herd  of  Mules 

and  offered  me  $135  per  head  spot  cash  for  all  of  my 
mules.  As  my  father,  then  at  Davenport,  Iowa,  and 
myself  owned  them  jointly,  I  referred  the  offer  to  him 
by  wire.  That  same  afternoon  Mr.  Creighton  called 
at  the  store  again,  and  handed  me  a  telegram  from 
J.  H.  McShane,  who  had  gone  down  the  road,  reading 
as  follows :  **Just  received  a  message  from  camp  say- 
ing entire  herd  of  mules  run  off  today  at  i  o'clock 
by  Indians.'* 

The  value  of  my  interest  in  the  herd  was  $12,000. 
Both  that  and  the  mules  were  irretrievably  lost. 

Some  time  after  the  events  narrated  in  the  preced- 
ing pages  I  learned  that  the  Sioux  Chief,  Old-Man- 
Afraid-Of-His-Horses,  referred  to  in  the  story  of  the 
Sioux  peace  commission  council  at  Red  Cloud  agency, 
on  page  y6,  headed  the  party  which  stole  our  mules.  It 
seems  apparent  that  while  the  old  man  was  afraid  of 
his  own  horses  he  stood  in  considerable  less  fear  of 
our  mules. 


ABOUT  AN  ARMY   POST  TRADERSHIP. 

During  General  Grant's  first  presidential  term  I 
learned  that  there  was  a  vacancy  in  the  post  tradership 
at  Fort  Laramie,  Wyoming,  and  I  immediately  went 
to  Washington,  D.  C.,  to  apply  for  it.  This  being  my 
first  visit  to  the  capital,  and  wishing  to  reach  the 
President  as  soon  as  possible,  I  got  a  letter  from  Mr. 
Orville  L.  Grant  to  General  Dent,  usher  at  the  White 
House.  It  was  the  19th  of  December,  1872,  when  I 
presented  my  note  to  General  Dent.  He  took  it  to  the 
President  and,  returning  almost  immediately,  showed 
me  into  the  executive  room.  I  may  have  been  some- 
what abashed  in  the  presence  of  a  president,  but  I  was 
greeted  so  cordially  that  the  embarassment  soon  left 
me.  The  President,  after  inquiring  after  the  health 
of  my  father  and  family,  said,  "What  can  I  do  for 
you,  John  ?"  I  answered  "The  post  tradership  at  Fort 
Laramie,  Wyoming,  is  vacant,  and  I  came  to  make 
an  application  for  it.  Having  no  other  acquaintance 
in  the  capital  I  take  the  liberty  of  making  my  busi- 
ness known  to  you."  "Well,"  he  said,  "these  matters 
properly  belong  to  the  Secretary  of  War,  General  Bel- 
knap. I  will  give  you  a  note  to  him,  and  you  can 
come  back  and  see  me  after  seeing  the  Secretary." 
He  wrote  the  letter  in  my  presence  and  I  at  once 
called  on  the  Secretary.  Mr.  Crosby,  the  chief  clerk, 
handed  my  card  in  and  I  was  admitted  without  de- 
lay. The  Secretary  read  the  card,  looked  at  me  smil- 
ingly and  said :  "Well,  Mr.  Collins,  this  is  most  com- 
plimentary; it  is  almost  an  order  for  me  to  give  you 
this  appointment.  I  learn  Fort  Laramie  in  a  busi- 
ness point  of  view  is  one  of  the  best  posts  in  the  army." 


66 


About  an  Army  Post  Tradership 


"Yes,"  I  replied,  "that  is  why  I  apply  for  it."  The 
Secretary  said,  "I  am  going  up  to  the  White  House 
today,  and  will  see  the  President.  You  can  call  here 
tomorrow  morning." 

The  next  morning  I  was  promptly  at  the  War  office. 
When  I  got  audience  with  the  Secretary,  he  told  me 
that  I  had  stirred  up  quite  a  strife  in  the  matter  of 
this  post  tradership.  "A  number  of  prominent  people," 
said  he  "some  of  them  from  >our  own  state,  and  several 
senators,  also  want  this  post.  A  complaint  has  been 
lodged  here  that  you  are  a  democrat."  This  I  did 
not  deny,  and  feeling  that  I  could  not  say  anything 
to  the  Secretary  that  would  advance  my  cause  I  re- 
quested him  to  leave  the  matter  open  until  I  could  again 
see  the  President  who  had  then  gone  to  Kentucky  to 
visit  his  father  who  was  dangerously  ill.  On  the  28th 
inst.  I  again  called  on  the  President  and  told  him  that 
the  only  opposition  to  me  seemed  to  be  that  I  was  a 
democrat.  With  the  remark,  "I  think  I  can  explain  this 
matter,"  the  President  gave  me  another  card  of  which 
the  following  is  a  fac  simile: 


c^/- 


4lc^      >v^      '^^x^&.yucL^ 


About  an  Army  Post  Tradership  67 

The  presentation  of  this  note  resulted  in  my  appoint- 
ment the  same  day. 

The  ten  years  following,  myself  and  my  brother, 
Gilbert  H.  Collins,  alternately  held  the  commission  of 
post  trader.  I  occasionally  visited  Washington,  and 
always  called  at  the  White  House  to  pay  my  respects 
to  President  and  Mrs.  Grant.  With  one  exception,  on 
every  visit,  either  the  President  or  Mrs.  Grant  in- 
vited me  to  lunch  or  dinner,  which  invitations  I  al- 
ways accepted. 

The  exception  was  the  year  that  all  the  post  traders 
in  the  United  States  were  summoned  to  Washington, 
to  tell  how  their  appointments  were  obtained.  I  went 
before  Heister  Clymer's  committee  at  the  capitol. 

The  following  explains  itself: 
"Washington  Correspondence  of  the  New  York  Sun, 
April  ist,  1876. 

"The  Committee  on  Expenditures  in  the  War  De- 
partment this  morning  examined  John  S.  Collins,  post 
trader  at  Fort  Laramie.     Mr.  Collins  said  he  got  the 


68  About  an  Army  Post  Tradership 

post  on  the  recommendation  of  the  President,  whose 
father,  Jesse  Grant,  had  been  a  partner  with  ColHns* 
father  in  business.  In  order  to  obtain  more  easy  ac- 
cess to  the  President,  he  got  a  letter  of  introduction 
from  Orville  Grant  to  Mr.  Dent,  usher  at  the  White 
House,  and  the  President  gave  him  a  letter  to  Sec- 
retary Belknap.  He  never  paid  a  dollar  directly  or 
indirectly,  either  to  get  or  to  hold  the  post.  The  profits 
of  the  post  were  from  $8,000.00  to  $15,000.00  a  year. 
ColHns  was  assessed  $100.00  this  summer 
for  Republican  campaign  purposes.  Mr.  Clymer  de- 
clared himself  satisfied  that  this  was  a  perfectly  proper 
appointment,  given  by  the  President  out  of  his  high  re- 
gard for  Collins'  father,  and  said,  'This  is  the  most 
decent  post  trader  I  have  seen  yet.'  " 

In  the  evening  I  called  on  the  President  and  told 
him  of  my  having  been  ordered  to  Washington  by  the 
sergeant-at-arms ;  also  of  my  statement  made  in  the 
committee  room  as  to  how  I  received  my  appointment. 
The  President  said,  'T  am  glad  you  obeyed  the  sum- 
mons. If  it  were  possible  for  me  to  appoint  to  office 
more  men  of  my  own  selection,  such  instances  might 
not  occur."    I  left  Washington  the  same  evening. 

When  President  R.  B.  Hayes  came  to  the  White 
House,  succeeding  President  Grant,  I  learned  from 
what  I  deemed  reliable  information,  that  President 
Hayes  asked  Ex-President  Grant  if  there  were  any 
appointments  he  had  made  that  he  desired  to  h"ave 
stand.  General  Grant's  answer  was :  ^'There  are  two 
appointments  I  feel  an  interest  in.  One  is  Mr.  Kramer, 
the  husband  of  my  sister,  who  is  minister  at  Copen- 
hagen.   The  other  is  John  Collins,  the  post  trader  at 


About  an  Army  Post  Tradership  69 

Fort  Laramie.  If  you  will  see  that  they  each  get  a 
hearing  before  anyone  is  appointed  in  their  place  it 
would  gratify  me."  During  President  Hayes'  admin- 
istration of  four  years,  I  remained  post  trader  at  Fort 
Laramie.  When  Garfield  succeeded  him,  I  then  re- 
mained over  a  year.  Then  the  Council  of  Administra- 
tion appointed  the  brother  of  one  of  the  officers  in  the 
post  and  in  February  following  I  left  Fort  Laramie. 
Nothing  has  called  me  there  since.  This  being  the 
most  prominent  post  in  the  Northwest,  there  are  many 
historical  incidents  connected  with  it  in  the  years 
previous  to  1882  that  John  Morrison,  my  present  as- 
sociate in  business  and  manager  of  the  store  at  the 
fort,  is  familiar  with  which  would  be  of  great  interest 
could  he  be  induced  to  make  a  record  of  them. 


HUNTING  BIG  GAME  WITH  A  MILITARY 
ESCORT. 

The  fall  previous  to  the  beginning  of  the  Sioux 
Indian  war  of  'y6y  General  George  Crook  spent  some 
time  at  Fort  Laramie,  that  being  the  rendezvous  for 
the  army.  The  Indians  were  in  an  ugly  mood.  Travel 
in  every  direction  was  regarded  as  dangerous.  Gen- 
eral Crook  became  restless  and  suggested  a  hunt  for 
big  game  in  the  vicinity  of  Laramie  Peak.  A  good 
angel  seemed  to  hover  over  this  man  and  he  did  not 
hesitate  to  carry  out  any  plan  that  suggested  itself 
to  him  or  any  orders  from  his  superior  officers.  On 
this  occasion,  however.  Captain  "Teddy"  Egan  was 
ordered  to  go  along  with  his  company  of  "Grey  Horse 


70  Hmfing  Big  Game 

Cavalry;"  also  Lieutenant  Philo  Clark.  General 
Crook,  Clark  and  myself  made  up  the  hunting  party. 
Leaving  the  post  it  was  a  day's  march  to  the  foot-hills, 
where  Collins  Cut-Off  entered  the  mountains  and 
came  out  on  Laramie  Plains. 

From  the  first  camp  we  hunted  the  northeast  side 
of  the  mountain  with  good  success.  Besides  killing 
elk  and  deer  Clark  ran  onto  a  band  of  mountain 
sheep,  climbing  up  the  rocky  ledge  of  the  canyon, 
coming  away  from  water.  Clark  was  a  good  game 
shot  and  as  the  sheep  climbed  the  rocks  he  picked 
the  leader  off  at  one  hundred  yards.  Another  jumped 
to  the  lead  and  Clark  picked  him  off.  A  third  one 
took  his  place  and  almost  in  a  breath  Clark  had  all 
three  tumbling  down  towards  the  creek.  General 
Crook,  always  successful  in  killing  any  kind  of  game 
he  hunted,  reported  elk  and  deer.  I  followed  the 
"bugle  call"  of  a  bull  elk,  (the  most  musical  note,  I 
think,  uttered  by  any  living  thing  in  the  mountains 
and  only  heard  during  the  rutting  season.)  The 
"call"  came  from  up  the  mountain  side.  While  rest- 
ing from  the  difficult  climb  I  sat  on  a  rock  and  began 
looking  the  country  over  with  a  field  glass.  Just  above 
me  a  ledge  of  rock  projected  and  my  direction  led  me 
around  and  over  the  ledge.    Here  I  discovered  a  full 

SET  OF  TEPEE  POLES 

set  on  the  flat  surface  of  the  ledge.  There 
was  no  covering  on  the  poles  as  the  place  was 
used  only  as  a  lookout  by  the  Indians.  The  view 
covered  the  valley  of  the  Platte,  the  Laramie,  and 
surrounding  country  for  fifty  miles  or  more.  There 
were  signs  of  this  lookout  having  been  recently  oc- 


Hunting  Big  Came  71 

cupied.  The  brush  around  its  approach  was  tramped 
down,  some  of  the  small  trees  were  barked,  and  a 
bundle  of  sticks  lay  inside  the  poles  for  fire  wood. 
So  interested  was  I  in  examining  the  place  that  I 
scarcely  noticed  a  bull  elk  as  he  came  thundering 
down  the  mountain  side,  crashing  through  the  under- 
brush, with  tongue  out,  foaming  and  snorting  like  an 
enraged  bull.  Catching  only  a  glimpse  of  him  through 
the  bushes  about  forty  yards  away  I  took  a  hasty  shot 
and  down  he  fell   with  a  broken  shoulder. 

The  next  morning  we  broke  camp  and  drove  up 
the  mountain  side.  The  trail  was  little  used  and 
gullies  were  washed  out  and  boulders  exposed  and 
we  were  obliged  to  bridge  an  occasional  bad  crossing, 
to  let  the  wagon  and  ambulance  over.  We  camped  at 
dusk  about  a  mile  before  getting  through  the  moun- 
tains. Early  next  morning  Captain  Eagan  with  his 
cavalry  went  ahead  to  examine  the  roads.  In  half  an 
hour  he  came  onto  a  burning  camp  fire  and  the  head 
and  pieces  of  a  freshly  killed  elk  hanging  on  a  tree. 
Near  this  was  a  wagon  track  and  tracks  of  unshod 
ponies  and  around  the  fire  were  moccasin  tracks,  evi- 
dently not  an  hour  old.  The  captain  rode  back  to 
warn  the  hunters  not  to  leave  the  trail  before  reaching 
that  point.  Here  we  stopped  and  cooked  our  break- 
fast over  this  same  camp  fire.  After  hunting  one  day 
in  this  vicinity  and  each  of  the  three  hunters  having 
seen  unmistaken  signs  of  Indians  and  having  killed 
all  the  game  we  wanted,  we  left  the  following  morn- 
ing and  drove  directly  through  to  Fort  Laramie. 

On  the  previous  day's  hunt.  General  Crook  followed 
the  trail  of  a  bear  that  led  him  so  far  away  he  could 
not  reaeh  camp  that  night.    As  I  was  the  last  of  the 


72  Hunting  Big  Game 

party  to  have  seen  him,  the  next  morning  I  took  a  sol- 
dier with  me  and  soon  found  him  coming  in.  Mean- 
while the  outfit  had  broken  camp  and  started  for  the 
Sybyle  river,  a  fork  of  the  Laramie;  at  the  end  of 
their  trail  we  found  the  party  nooning  at  a  spring, 
just  at  the  edge  of  the  timber.  Here  we  compared 
notes.  Three  of  the  party  having  on  the  previous 
day's  hunt  found  unmistakeable  signs  of  hostile  In- 
dians we  decided  to  give  up  the  hunt  and  return  to 
the  post  at  once.  To  hunt  big  game  that  required  a 
lot  of  soldiers  to  guard  you  was  rather  a  complex  af- 
fair and  we  lost  no  time  in  deciding  upon  this  course. 
Soon  after  our  return  the  ranchmen  living  near  by 
drifted  in.  Among  them  was  Johnny  Owens,  who  lived 
at  Eagle's  Nest,  near  the  Chugwater.  From  him 
we  learned  that  he  had  sent  two  men  with  a  team 
for  house  logs,  who  made  camp  here.  The  next  morn- 
ing one  of  them  built  a  fire  to  prepare  breakfast,  the 
other  going  after  the  horses.  The  latter  reported 
''Indian  signs,"  so  fresh  he  could  "smell  'em."  After 
breakfast  they  hurried  out  of  the  mountains.  The 
sequel  to  all  this  was  that  Owens'  men  lit  the  fire, 
cooked  their  breakfast  and  "lit  out."  The  Indians 
"jumped  their  claim,"  and  cooked  their  breakfast  by 
the  same  fire.  We  followed  and  used  the  same  fire 
for  our  breakfast  and  then  we  "lit  out."  All  of  which 
occurred  in  less  than  two  hours. 


When  in  command  in  Arizona,  General  George 
Crook  took  a  young  Apache  Indian  with  him  on  a 
deer  hunt.  The  Indian  stationed  the  General  on  the 
^Vunway"     and     said,     "You     stay  here,  deer  sure 


Hunting  Big  Game  73 

come,"  while  he  beat  the  chapperel  to  drive  the  game 
out.  The  General  stood  his  ground  patiently  for  five 
or  six  hours,  but  saw  no  sign  of  game. 

When  the  Indian  returned,  he  found  the  General 
still  waiting  on  the  trail  and  asked,  "Deer  no  come?" 
"No,"  said  the  General,  "Deer  sure  come,  he  no  come 
today,  maybe  he  come  tomorrow." 


When  our  beloved  Major  General  George  Crook, 
friend  and  companion  of  many  royal  hunts  and  happy 
days,  died  March  21st,  1890,  at  the  Grand  Pacific 
hotel  in  Chicago,  it  was  the  sad  privilege  of  Webb 
Hayes  and  myself  to  be  among  the  pall  bearers,  with 
Marshall  Field,  George  M.  Pullman,  William  McKin- 
ley,  then  congressman ;  Colonel  T.  H.  Stanton  and 
others,  and  we  accompanied  the  body  to  Oakland,  Md., 
where  the  funeral  took  place.  Ex-President  Hayes  ac- 
companied us  and  attended  the  funeral. 

The  body  of  General  Crook  was  afterward  removed 
to  Arlington  cemetery,  Washington,  District  of  Colum- 
bia.   Mrs.  Crook  is  buried  beside  him. 

A  beautiful  and  appropriate  monument  has  been 
erected  at  Arlington  by  the  General's  friends,  many 
of  Omaha's  prominent  citizens  aiding  in  its  construc- 
tion. 

He         H:         4: 

"IF  YOU  DON'T  PRAY  BEFORE  YOU  EAT,  YOU 
WON  T  STEAL. 

In  '75  Spotted  Tail,  chief  of  the  Brules,  came  to 
Fort  Laramie,  where  I  was  post-trader,  for  the  re- 
mains of  his  daughter,  who  had  died  at  the  post  sev- 


74  If  You  Don't  Pray 

eral  years  before  and  was  placed  in  a  plain  box  cov- 
ered with  Indian  cloth.  The  box  was  set  up  on  four 
posts,  near  sand  bluffs,  west  of  the  garrison.  On 
the  head  end  the  head  of  her  favorite  white  pony  was 
nailed  and  its  tail  was  nailed  on  the  other  end  to 
"travel  with  her  to  the  Happy  Hunting  Ground."  In 
the  box  were  placed  the  trinkets  and  ornaments  she 
wore  when  alive.  "Spot"  said  to  me,  "My  daughter 
was  buried  here  where  my  Indians  lived  and  many 
of  our  children  were  born.  We  traded  here ;  the  young 
men  played  their  games,  raced  their  ponies  and  our 
Great  Father's  people  (the  soldiers)  were  good  to  us. 
Now  that  has  all  passed  and  we  want  our  dead  at  one 
place.  I  came  to  take  my  daughter  to  my  agency  on 
Beaver  Creek."  Before  calling  on  the  commanding 
officer,  I  took  "Spot"  to  my  house  to  dinner.  A 
"squaw  man"  named  Bouchere,  his  son-in-law,  ac- 
companied us  as  interpreter.  At  the  table  I  filled 
"Spot's"  plate  liberally  and  said  to  Bouchere,  "Tell 
*Spot'  to  help  himself  and  eat  plenty."  He  replied, 
"Ah  Cola,  (my  friend)  you  don't  pray  before  you  eat." 
He  had  dined  with  his  Indian  agents  who  always  said 
grace.  "No,"  I  answered.  "My  prayers  are  all 
through  the  day  in  my  business."  His  face  beamed 
with  smiles,  as  he  added,  "Then  you  won't  steal.  If 
you  don't  pray  before  you  eat  you  won't  steal." 

There  were  some  interesting  features  connected 
with  preparing  the  remains  of  his  daughter  for  trans- 
portation by  wagon.  The  bones  and  trinkets  were 
placed  in  a  new  box  lined  with  stars  and  striped  calico, 
covered  with  Indian  cloth,  nailed  on  with  brass  tacks, 
in  all  of  which  the  commanding  officer  and  other  offi- 
cers, including  Post  Surgeon  Hartsuf,  assisted  and 


If  You  Don't  Pray 


75 


directed  with  decorum  befitting  the  occasion.  The 
box  was  placed  in  the  wagon  and  they  drove  away  to 
the  agency. 


THE  SIOUX  INDIAN  COMMISSION. 

When  the  sub- Sioux  commission,  consisting  of  S. 
D.  Hinman,  Chairman ;  A.  B.  Comingo,  W.  H.  Ashby, 
and  myself,  Secretary  for  the  full  commission,  left 
Fort  Laramie,  they  went  directly  to  Red  Cloud 
agency,  where  Crawford,  Nebraska,  now  stands.  The 
Indian  agent  was  advised  of  our  coming  and  notified 
the  chiefs  and  leading  men  to  assemble  for  a  pre- 
liminary council,  where  the  Indians  would  be  informed 
of  the  object  of  our  visit.  Right  here  began  the  im- 
portance of  the  whole  affair  and  it  fell  on  the  sub- 
commission  to  perform  the  labor  of  arranging  for  the 
grand  council  to  be  held  in  the  fall.  At  this  council 
Red  Cloud,*  Old  Man  Afraid  of  His  Horses,* 
Young  Man  Afraid,  Red  Dog,  American  Horse  and 
several  other  leading  men,  and  young  men  of  less  im- 
portance, of  the  Ogallala  band,  met  the  commission. 

The  chairman  explained  the  object  of  our  visit  in 
a  few  words,  namely,  to  treat  with  all  the  bands  of 
the  Sioux  tribe,  both  in  the  interior  and  along  the 
Missouri  river,  for  the  relinquishment  of  their  right 
to  the  Black  Hills  country,  to  enable  white  men  to 
go  there  and  mine  for  gold.  Gold  had  been  discovered 
and  small  parties  of  white  men  were  then  in  the  hills 
prospecting.  Red  Cloud  was  the  first  to  reply  to  the 
chairman.     He  said: 

"When  the  Great  Father  sends  his  White  Chiefs  to 
talk  with  us  we  hear  them.     The  Black  Hills  is  our 

♦Chiefs. 


The  Sioux  Indian  Commission  77 

bank,  and  our  money  is  in  the  ground ;  we  want  it  to 
stay  there  for  our  children.  There  are  many  Indians 
up  north  who  are  the  same  as  we  are  and  I  cannot 
speak  for  all,  I  am  the  head  chief,  and  when  we  have 
business  we  want  all  our  people  to  hear;  then  we  can 
decide.  If  you  go  to  Spotted  Tail's  camp  and  tell 
him  all  this  news,  then  he  will  bring  more  Indians  to- 
gether and  we  will  talk  it  over,  when  you  come  back; 
this  is  all  for  today." 

Chairman  Hinman  then  said:  "We  can't  spend  so 
much  time,  we  want  to  go  to  the  Hills  at  once;  we 
want  you  to  send  some  of  your  wise  young  men  with 
us;  we  will  ask  Spotted  Tail  to  do  the  same.  We 
go  to  his  agency  tomorrow,  then  we  will  come  back 
here  and  start  for  the  hills, — this  is  the  nearest  way. 
When  we  return  we  want  six  of  your  young  men  to 
be  ready  to  go  with  us.  They  can  take  their  own 
horses  and  we  will  carry  tents  and  provision  for  all. 
When  the  business  is  finished  in  the  hills  we  will  go 
to  the  Missouri  river  and  tell  the  Indians  there,  and 
your  young  men  must  go  to  the  river  also,  when  the 
business  is  finished  there  Inspector  Daniels  will  bring 
your  young  men  back  with  the  teams." 

The  next  morning  the  commission  left  for  Spotted 
Tail  agency  on  Beaver  creek,  arriving  about  noon. 
Soon  after  our  arrival  Spotted  Tail  stalked  in  followed 
by  a  number  of  his  leading  men  for  a  "small  talk." 
Of  all  the  chiefs  and  all  the  leading  Indians  we  met 
after  leaving  "Spots"  agency  there  were  none  who 
came  to  council  who  exercised  the  authority  over  all 
their  band  as  did  Spotted  Tail  over  the  Brules,  and 
he  only  the  appointed  chief  of  an  army  officer,  Gen- 


78  The  Sioux  Indian  Commission 

eral  Harney,  I  believe,  because  of  his  friendly  influence 
at  the  Ash  Hollow  fight  on  the  Platte  river.  He  was 
not  an  hereditary  chief.  Always  good  natured  and 
smiling,  with  a  voice  as  soft  and  clear  as  a  woman's, 
a  wily  politician,  whose  purpose  in  the  interest  of  his 
tribe,  it  has  been  said,  could  be  swerved  by  money, 
ponies  or  their  value  in  buffalo  robes,  for  his  per- 
sonal interest.  I  cannot  say  he  was  a  disinterested 
chief  in  the  interest  of  his  band.  He  was  the  chosen 
orator.  Tall,  majestic,  mild  of  manner,  always  be- 
ginning with  "Ah  Cola"  (my  friend),  allowing  his 
dark  blue  Mackinac  blanket  to  fall  from  his  right 
shoulder,  to  give  his  arm  free  play  in  gesturing,  he 
began : 

"I  am  here  to  tell  you  that  Red  Cloud  sent  us  news 
that  you  come  to  take  our  lands  where  the  gold  is, 
that  is  our  bank.  We  want  more  people  here  to  hear 
what  we  say;  my  people  do  not  Hke  to  have  white 
chiefs  sent  by  the  Great  Father  to  make  our  land 
smaller ;  we  will  come  and  talk  when  the  sun  is  there," 
(pointing  to  the  west  and  indicating  about  sunset)  as 
the  day  was  very  warm. 

At  that  time  came  the  delegation  of  about  fifty  In- 
dians, their  faces  painted  and  wearing  all  the  para- 
phernalia they  usually  wore  on  grand  occasions. 

They  arranged  themselves  along  the  board  walk  in 
front  of  the  agency  building  and,  according  to  their 
custom,  got  out  their  pipes  and  tobacco,  first  invoking 
the  Great  Spirit  by  gestures,  then  they  began  smok- 
ing. Presently  a  half  dozen  of  the  leaders  shook 
hands  with  the  commissioners,  sat  down  on  the  ground, 
and  again  passed  their  pipes  around  in  silence. 


The  Sioux  Indian  Commission  79 

There  is  an  etiquette  among  Indians  in  regard  to 
speaking,  that  might  be  imitated  to  advantage  by  some 
white  men,  viz.:  They  choose  one  or  more  speakers 
in  council,  no  other  voice  being  heard. 

Spotted  Tail  stood  up  and  said :  "My  people  don't 
want  you  to  go  to  the  Black  Hills;  if  you  go  I  will 
send  some  young  men  with  you.  Some  Indians  are 
up  there  hunting  and  they  may  steal  your  horses  and 
make  trouble.  When  you  go  to  the  Missouri  river,  our 
young  men  will  tell  our  people  that  we  are  the  most 
Indians  and  that  they  must  come  here  to  hold  council. 
The  land  belongs  to  us  and  we  have  taken  care  of  it. 
They  must  send  some  old  men  that  know  about  the 
country  and  some  young  men  who  can  hear.  Red 
Cloud  and  me  think  Chadron  creek  the  best  place  for 
a  big  council.  We  want  you  to  give  the  young  men 
tents  to  sleep  in  and  plenty  to  eat  and  take  care  of  their 
ponies.  Go  back  and  tell  Red  Cloud  and  the  old 
men  that  we  will  go  on  Chadron  creek  for  the  big 
council.    That  is  all." 

While  the  chiefs  and  old  men  were  holding  council 
to  give  their  lands  away  or  sell  them  for  a  price  the 
young  men  showed  their  opposition  to  the  scheme. 
The  council  lasted  until  near  dark,  then  the  Indians 
went  to  their  lodges  to  select  the  young  men  to  ac- 
company us.  The  next  morning  when  we  were  ready 
to  start  the  inspector  in  charge  of  the  transportation 
informed  up  that 

OUR    WAGONS    WERE    TIED    UP    WITH    ROPES 

and  we  could  not  move.  This  had  the  appearance  of 
an  ugly  turn  in  the  affair,  but  after  an  investigation 
it  was  discovered  that  it  was  only  a  good  natured 


80  The  Sioux  Indian  Commission 

prank,  suggested  by  "Spot"  and  carried  out  by  some 
of  the  young  men.  The  ropes  were  removed  by  the 
young  men  accompanying  us  and  our  party  started  on 
their  long  and  tedious  journey  via.  Red  Cloud  agency 
for  the  Black  Hills,  thence  to  the  Missouri  river.  We 
were  detained  here  two  days  before  leaving  for  Red 
Cloud.  Runners  had  gone  before  us  and  given  out 
the  news  that  we  were  coming  and  on  our  arrival  there 
six  of  Red  Cloud's  young  men  came  to  us — this  mak- 
ing twelve  ambassadors — and  we  at  once  started, 
taking  a  trail  east  of  the  pine  and  chalk  bluffs,  that  are 
directly  north  of  where  Crawford,  Nebraska,  now 
is.  The  only  duty  the  commission  had  to  perform  in 
the  hills  was  to  examine  the  country.  General  Rich- 
ard I.  Dodge  was  camped  on  Rapid  creek  with  two 
companies  of  soldiers,  to  prevent  mining  on  that  creek 
and  the  adjacent  country,  until  the  treaty  would  per- 
mit. From  this  camp  we  followed  the  stream  out  of 
the  mountains  east  and  on  to  Elk  creek.  In  places 
pools  of  alkali  water  stood,  about  the  color  of  coffee, 
and  we  were  obliged  to  camp  here,  it  being  late  in  the 
day. 

Near  this  water  hole  were  as  many  as  ten  turtles 
measuring  about  four  feet  across  and  five  feet  in 
length.  They  were  all  petrified  and  would  weigh  not 
less  than  200  pounds  each.  The  pile  had  the  appear- 
ance that  each  turtle  had  tried  to  climb  over  the  other 
and  all  lay  in  a  pile  when  the  water  receded.  This 
point  was  not  far  from  the  lands  where  Professor 
Marsh  visited  a  few  years  later  to  make  his  collection 
of  petrifications.  Joseph  Merreville  was  our  guide 
and  he  was  one  of  the  old-timers  of  the  Jim  Bridger 
type  who  had  spent  many  years  with  the  traders  and 


The  Sioux  Indian  Commission  81 

Indians.  He  led  our  teams  over  to  the  junction  of 
the  Belle  Fourche  where  both  forks  came  together  and 
formed  the  Cheyenne  river.  When  we  reached  the 
Cheyenne  it  was  difficult  finding  a  place  our  teams 
could  drive  down  into  the  narrow  valley.  Joe  led  us 
into  a  washout  that  became  deeper  and  more  difficult 
as  we  descended  to  the  valley.  Part  of  the  time  the 
wagon  wheels  were  on  a  steep  bank  straddling  the 
creek  bed  where  the  animals  could  scarcely  find  foot- 
ing. At  one  point  about  twelve  feet  below  the  surface 
the  skull  and  bones  of  a  buffalo  protruded  from  the 
cut  banks.  Bones  and  skulls  were  everywhere  visible. 
The  valley  the  stream  ran  through,  varied  from  a 
quarter  to  half  a  mile  in  width.  The  banks  were  cut 
walls  of  black  shale  from  thirty  to  one  hundred  feet 
high  straight  up  and  down  and  were  thickly  dotted 
with  white  spots  that  could  be  seen  in  the  black  banks 
fully  a  mile  away.  These  white  spots  proved  to  be 
petrified  turtles  ranging  in  size  from  an  egg  up  to 
ten  or  twelve  inches  long  and  were  coated  over  with 
a  white  lime  substance.  There  were  also  hundreds 
of  pieces  of  long,  slim,  snake-like  perifications  coated 
over  with  a  shell  of  iridescent  color.  These  are  found 
all  through  the  foothills  and  are  supposed  to  have 
existed  long  before  the  fish  age.  We  traveled  two 
days  in  this  valley  before  finding  an  outlet  where  teams 
could  get  out  onto  the  divide  separating  the  Cheyenne 
from  the  Moreau  river.  Merreville  told  us  the  trail 
was  plain  and  for  fifty  or  more  years  had  been  traveled 
by  Indians  with  travois  from  the  Missouri  river  to  the 
Black  Hills  to  procure  lodge  poles  and  for  hunting. 
Finally  we  came  to  a  rough  edge  of  land  leading  south 
which  sloped  up  to  the  high  plateau  and  there  seemed 


82  The  Sioux  Indian  Commission 

a  prospect  of  getting  out  of  the  valley.  The  bit  of 
land  or  rather  a  back  bone  ran  to  a  sharp  edge  in  the 
middle  and  sloped  off  abruptly  on  each  side.  It  was 
necessary  to  double  teams  and  with  the  ambulance  and 
eight  horses  led  by  the  guide,  a  start  was  made.  The 
horses  straddled  the  ridge  and  the  ambulance  wheels 
were  on  either  side  of  it.  Soon  it  became  necessary  to 
use  shovels  to  cut  the  top  edge  away  so  the  axletree 
would  not  scrape  the  ground,  then  all  hands  excepting 
the  Indians  (who  stuck  to  their  ponies  and  while  all 
the  others  stopped  to  begin  work  they  improved  their 
time  sitting  around  on  the  ground  smoking  their  pipes 
and  talking)  would  shovel  away  the  obstructions  to  the 
wheels,  and  again  make  a  start.  At  the  very  worst 
place  on  the  trail  where  ropes  were  required  to  hold 
the  wagon  from  sliding  into  a  deep  gulch  dragging  the 
mules  after,  Joe,  the  guide,  became  thoroughly  dis- 
gusted and  with  a  choice  selection  of  swear  words, 
said:  "I  don't  know  where  dat  road  gone,  he  was 
plain  wagony  trail."  "How  long  ago  was  that  ?"  asked 
Comingo.    "Twenty-five  years,"  said  Joe. 

We  were  all  day  getting  out  of  the  valley  and  up  on 
the  table  land.  The  country  was  flat  and  covered  with 
a  luxurious  growth  of  gramma  or  buffalo  grass.  As 
the  breeze  swayed  it  it  resembled  a  vast  field  of  oats 
without  a  weed  or  shrub  for  miles.  Buffalo  skulls 
and  bones  were  everywhere  to  be  seen.  Our  first 
camp  on  this  high  divide  was  at  spring  holes  and  near 
a  small  lake.  On-e  of  our  party  killed  a  large  quantity 
of  blue  wing  teal  duck  on  which  we  had  a  feast  fit  for 
a  king.  They  were  cooked  in  a  camp  kettle  over 
an  outdoor  fire — a  few  potatoes  and  bits  of  bacon 
boiled  with  them.    Two  days'  travel  on  this  divide  and 


The  Sioux  Indian  Commission  83 

we  left  the  gramma  grass  for  the  Moreau  river,  then 
down  this  river  east  and  camped  where  the  creek 
banks  were  twenty  feet  high.  During  this  day's  travel, 
being  in  an  antelope  country,  several  of  the  Indians 
kft  the  trail  to  hunt  and  came  in  at  night  with  five 
antelope  and  one  of  our  teamsters  brought  an  antelope 
to  our  camp.  When  the  Indian  hunters  came  with 
their  ponies  packed  with  game,  preparations  were  at 
once  made  for  a  feast.  In  the  fine  pool  of  clear 
spring  water  they  first  took  a  bath,  after  which  they 
greased  their  bodies  from  head  to  foot  with  the  mar- 
row from  the  leg  bones  of  the  antelope.  The  fire  was 
started  with  willows  found  near  by.  The  antelope 
were  skinned  and  dressed  and  put  over  the  fire  in  var- 
ious ways.  When  Indians  kill  deer  or  antelope  they 
drink  the  warm  blood  and  eat  the  liver  raw  while  it  is 
warm  with  animal  heat.  The  Indians  sat  around  the 
fir€  eating  and  smoking  nearly  all  night.  I  walked 
over  to  their  fires  before  breakfast  next  morning  and 
all  that  was  visible  after  the  night's  debauch  were  two 
front  quarters  of  one  antelope.  Twelve  Indians  had 
actually  devoured  four  and  one-half  antelope  (three 
were  small)  at  one  continuous  meal  during  the  night, 
while  our  party  of  about  an  equal  number  had  dis- 
posed of  only  one  hind  quarter  of  a  single  antelope. 
The  Indians  could  have  traveled  three  or  four  days 
without  a  mouthful  of  food  after  this  meal. 

Our  trail  continued  through  gramma  grass  along  the 
divide  and  to  the  Moreau  river,  then  north  and 
down  this  stream  to  its  mouth,  arriving  at  Standing 
Rock  where  a  lot  of  Winnebago  Indians  and  part  of 
a  band  of  Yanctonais  drew  rations.     Arrangements 


84  The  Sioux  Indian  Commission 

were  at  once  begun  for  holding  council  at  the  village 
of  the  wild  Yanctonais. 


A  FEAST  WITH  SPOTTED  TAIL. 

While  I  was  with  the  Sioux  commission  at  Spotted 
Tail  Agency,  on  Beaver  creek,  Nebraska,  in  1875, 
about  fifty  miles  west  of  where  Chadron  now  is.  Spot- 
ted Tail,  chief  of  the  Brules,  invited  S.  D.  Hinman 
and  myself  to  a  feast  at  his  lodge.  Mr.  Hinman  re- 
presented the  Episcopal  church  at  Santee  Agency  on 
the  Missouri  river  and  had  a  most  intelligent  knowl- 
edge of  the  language  of  the  Dacotahs  and  the  Indian 
character  and  was  a  fine  interpreter. 

"Spot"  escorted  us  to  his  lodge,  half  a  mile  from 
the  agency.  While  the  feast  was  being  prepared  he 
entertained  us  outside.  His  lodge  was  made  of  dressed 
elk  hide,  and  was  decorated  with  paintings  of  some 
of  his  adventures.  The  poles  were  hung  with  "medi- 
cine" bags  of  red  flannel,  stuffed  with  roots  and  herbs, 
painted  eagle  feathers,  antelope  hair  being  tied 
about  them.  A  squaw  came  out  of  the  lodge  with  a 
rope  of  rawhide  in  one  hand  and  in  the  other  she  had 
a  stone  attached  to  a  stick  covered  with  rawhide.  A 
mongrel  dog  was  running  about  and  after  two  or  three 
"throws"  she  got  the  rope  over  his  head,  dragged  him 
to  her  and  with  the  war  club,  beat  him  on  the  head 
until  dead.  Then  she  dragged  him  into  the  lodge. 
Hinman  evidently  understood  the  program,  and  his 
face  fairly  beamed  with  smiles  as  he  turned  and  asked, 
"What  do  you  suppose  she  will  do  with  that  dog?" 
Although  I  had  my  suspicions   I  was  not  prepared  to 


A  Feast  with  Spotted  Tail  85 

say.  When  the  feast  was  announced  we  crawled 
through  an  opening  in  the  lodge,  the  cover  to  which 
sewed  on  with  rawhide  strings  held  up  by  a  buck- 
skin thong  was  a  beaver  skin  stretched  over  a  bent 
willow  and  stitched  with  strings.  When  released 
it  dropped  down  and  covered  the  opening.  In 
the  middle  of  the  lodge  a  camp  kettle  hung 
over  a  fire.  Piles  of  furs  and  buifalo  robes 
lay  around  the  edge.  Two  or  three  young  bucks 
lounged  on  the  robes.  It  was  plain  that  we  were  guests 
of  Spotted  Tail  only.  We  sat  with  legs  crossed  on  the 
piles  of  furs.  The  squaw  with  a  tin  cup  dipped  out 
to  each  tin  plate  four  or  five  pounds  from  the  kettle, 
and  it  was  handed  around.  By  this  time  I  had  taken 
in  the  situation,  and,  turning  to  Hinman  said,  "I  am 
not  very  hungry  and  don't  know  'what  the  deuce'  I 
can  do  with  this  plate  of  dog.  Can't  you  get  me  out 
of  it?"  For  once  in  my  life  I  can  truthfully  say  I 
was  "up  against  it."  The  good  humor  of  Hinman  pro- 
voked me.  I  felt  like  depriving  the  Santee  Agency 
of  one  of  its  valuable  representatives.  Hinman,  while 
enjoying  my  predicament,  said,  "If  you  will  do  some- 
thing handsome  for  me  I  may  get  you  out  of  this 
scrape."  "Anything  you  ask,  I'll  do"  was  my  answer, 
"only  get  quick  action  for  we  are  delaying  the  feast." 
Hinman  said,  "Lay  a  dollar  on  the  side  of  that  plate 
of  dog,  and  hand  it  to  Spot's  nephew.  After  he  has 
eaten  his  own  he  will  eat  yours  and  you  will  be  square 
with  Spotted  Tail."  Hinman  explained  to  "Spot"  that 
I  was  not  hungry  and  had  hired  his  nephew  to  eat 
for  me.  "Spot"  said,  "How,  How,"  and  I  was  square 
with  the  chief. 


COUNCIL   WITH   THE   YANCTONAIS. 

Above  Standing  Rock  Agency  on  the  Missouri 
river  there  was  a  village  of  one  thousand  lodges  of 
"Yanktonais."  News  of  the  coming  of  the  commission 
was  brought  by  Indian  runners,  two  days  in  advance 
of  our  arrival  at  the  agency.  Some  of  the  Indians  met 
us  at  the  agency  and  asked  that  the  council  be  held  at 
the  village,  saying  that  all  preparations  were  made  and 
a  great  many  Indians  would  come  to  council  if  it  was 
held  at  the  place  designated  by  them.  The  following 
day,  at  noon,  the  commissioners  left  by  ambulance  to 
meet  the  Indians  as  they  had  planned.  These  Indians 
were  known  as  wild,  lived  on  the  prairie.  They  would 
not  come  to  the  Agency  to  draw  government  rations 
and  would  go  to  council  only  on  the  prairie.  The  village 
was  located  on  the  open  prairie  back  from  the  river. 
The  lodges  were  all  covered  with  dressed  buffalo  and 
elk  skins  and  two  thousand  ponies  were  grazing  near 
by.  An  ingenious  shelter  was  arranged.  The  poles  from 
a  dozen  lodges  were  placed  in  an  oblong  circle  and  cov- 
ered on  two  sides  with  skins  from  the  lodges.  These 
were  decorated  on  the  outside  with  pictures  represent- 
ing the  achievements  of  the  owners  in  hunting,  in  war 
and  in  horse  stealing  raids.  There  was  no  covering 
over  the  center.  Inside  the  poles  were  hung  with  bows 
and  quivers  of  arrows,  lance  sticks,  beaded  tobacco 
pouches,  painted  shields  made  from  the  tough  and 
wrinkled  part  of  raw  buffalo  skin,  medicine  bags  filled 
with  herbs,  painted  eagle  feathers  and  tails  from  ante- 
lope. All  the  arms  of  the  Indians  and  war  clubs  were 
laid  aside  and  everything  had  the  evidence  of  a  peace 
council,  showing  that  the  Indians  understood  the  eti- 


Council  with  the  Yanctonais  87 

qiiette  due  to  a  council  of  men  sent  out  by  the  Great 
Father.  The  Indians  assembled  had  laid  aside  their 
blankets  and  buffalo  robes  usually  worn  and  were 
dressed  principally  in  shirts  and  leggings  made  of  deer 
skins  fringed  and  garnished  with  beads  and  porcu- 
pine quills.  Some  wore  war  bonnets  made  of  eagle 
feathers,  streaming  from  their  heads  to  the  ground; 
others  wore  no  headdress  but  their  hair  was  painted 
red  on  the  scalp  and  braided  with  strips  of  weasel  and 
dressed  beaver  and  otter  skins  and  leggings  beaded  and 
bound  below  the  knee  with  strings  of  small  bells.  Ear- 
rings, brooches  of  shell  and  dozens  of  strings  of  beads 
ornamented  their  necks.  They  also  wore  beaded  moc- 
casins. Some  of  the  middle  aged  men  wore  medals 
that  had  been  handed  down  from  their  fathers  and 
grandfathers,  given  them  in  past  years  by  various 
presidents  when  they  had  visited  Washington.  These 
they  valued  among  all  else  of  their  possessions. 
I  offered  one  of  them  $50.00  for  a  Thomas 
Jefferson  medal,  made  of  copper-bronze  with  the  pres- 
ident's bust  in  relief  upon  one  side,  the  reverse  side 
describing  the  purpose  for  which  it  was  given  and  the 
occasion.  One  of  them  showed  a  map  containing  all 
the  territory  north  of  the  Missouri  line  and  extending 
to  the  British  possessions,  the  eastern  boundary  being 
the  Missouri  river,  then  extending  west  to  the  Rocky 
mountains.  This  entire  country  was  then  Nebraska 
Territory.  One  Campbell,  living  in  St.  Louis,  Mis- 
souri, was  the  Indian  agent  then.  This,  too,  was  of; 
great  value  to  the  owner  as  showing  the  country  claim- 
ed by  the  Indians  as  "their  lands." 

Piles  of  robes  and  furs  were  scattered  around  for 


88  Council  with  the  Yanctonais 

the  commission  to  sit  upon;  the  Indians  sat  upon  the 
ground  in  a  circle,  smoking  their  pipes  and  passing 
them  among  the  chiefs,  always  their  custom  before  be- 
ginning a  council.  The  chief  spoke  first,  then  the 
chairman  of  the  commission  addressed  the  Indians  and 
explained  the  object  of  our  coming,  viz.,  to  induce 
them  to  send  a  large  delegation  to  Chadron  creek  in 
August  to  meet  the  delegations  from  the  other  bands  of 
Sioux  in  a  grand  council,  on  the  business  named  in 
council  held  with  other  bands  previous  to  reaching  the 
Yanctonais. 

It  was  near  sunset  when  the  council  was  ended 
and  the  golden  glow  fell  on  the  thousand  lodges  and 
brought  out  the  dark  chestnut  color  of  the  tops  of 
the  lodges  and  the  smoke  blackened  ends  of  the  lodge 
poles.  Young  bucks  were  catching  their  ponies  and 
riding  through  the  village  telling  of  the  great  council ; 
runners  were  mounted  and  dashing  in  every  direction, 
carrying  the  news  to  smaller  camps  located  a  day's 
ride  away.  On  their  arrival  fresh  riders  and  fresh 
horses  would  take  up  the  relay  and  ride  at  a  furious 
gait  to  other  camps.  By  this  method  of  conveying  news 
Indians  camped  an  hundred  miles  from  the  council 
grounds  would  get  the  news  .carried  at  a  speed  of  from 
ten  to  twelve  miles  an  hour. 

Children  were  playing  about  with  bows  and  arrows 
and  their  antics  were  like  monkeys.  The  lively  scene 
of  Indians  in  red,  blue  and  green  blankets,  moving  about 
the  lodges,  riding  and  driving  ponies  in  every  direc- 
tion, made  a  beautiful  picture. 

AN   INDIAN   COURTSHIP. 

An  exceptionally  interesting  feature  was  the  court- 
ing of  the  young  bucks  and  their  sweethearts.     Just 


Council  with  the  Yandonais  89 

beyond  the  lodges  was  a  grass  covered  mound  on  which 
were  congregated  fifty  or  more  couples.  They  were 
not  seated  on  easy  chairs  or  luxuriant  lounges,  but  all 
stood  erect  and  almost  motionless.  The  young  bucks 
wrapped  their  gay  colored  blankets  of  red,  blue  or 
green  around  the  maidens  and  stood  like  statues  with 
no  effort  to  conceal  the  fact  that  they  were  courting 
in  the  most  approved  Indian  fashion. 

When  a  young  Indian  has  impressed  his  sweet- 
heart with  the  fact  that  he  is  wooing  her  in  dead  earn- 
est the  buck  creeps  cautiously  to  the  lodge  of  her  par- 
ents after  dark  leading  a  pony.  This  he  ties  to  a  stake 
and  leaves  him.  On  coming  out  in  the  morning,  if  the 
father  of  the  girl  does  not  turn  the  pony  loose  it  is  an 
evidence  that  the  old  man  is  not  unfavorable  to  the 
suitor's  intentions,  but  the  bid  for  his  daughter  is  not 
high  enough  and  more  ponies  are  required.  The  next 
night  one  or  more  ponies  are  led  to  the  lodge  and  tied 
in  the  same  place.  This  is  repeated  until  enough  po- 
nies are  offered  to  get  the  approval  of  the  parent. 
When  the  horses  are  sent  out  with  the  herd  of  the  own- 
er then  the  principal  part  of  the  courtship  and  mar- 
riage ceremony  is  completed.  The  young  man  is  then 
welcomed  to  the  lodge  and  treated  as  one  of  the  family, 
the  bride  resumes  her  everyday  occupation  of  herding 
the  ponies,  carrying  wood  and  water  to  the  family  and 
doing  the  regular  camp  drudgery. 

It  is  sometimes  the  custom  of  the  parent  to  bestow 
on  the  bride  all  the  ponies  given  him  by  her  suitor,  to- 
gether with  ten  or  more  from  his  own  herd.  The  ex- 
pression, "ten  horses,"  is  more  frequently  used  in  any 
and  every  trade  than  any  other  number.    For  a  greater 


90  Council  with  the  Yanctonais 

number  than  ten  it  is  "ten  more,"  even  if  the  number 
be  less  than  ten.  Buffalo  robes  are  usually  reckoned 
the  same  way.  The  robes  counting  one  "bale"  by  the 
traders. 

The  original  record  of  the  entire  proceedings  in- 
cluding the  speeches  of  the  chairman,  the  replies  of  all 
the  Indians,  together  with  the  names  of  all  the  promi- 
nent Indians,  is  in  my  possession. 


BURIAL  OF  THE  DAUGHTER  OF  AMERICAN 
HORSE. 

The  day  the  Sioux  commission  arrived  at  Red 
Cloud  Agency  the  place  was  in  mourning.  The  daugh- 
ter of  American  Horse  had  died  the  evening  before. 
"Haranguers"  were  sent  among  the  Indians  to  give 
notice  of  the  grief  in  camp  and,  according  to  custom 
when  there  is  a  death  in  the  lodge,  the  lodge  and  the 
entire  family  move  away  from  the  place.  American 
Horse  gave  away  his  horses,  buffalo  robes,  and  every- 
thing of  value,  unbraided  his  hair  and  let  it  fall  around 
his  shoulders,  covered  his  face  with  mud,  and  lacerated 
his  arms  and  legs,  a  custom  when  a  relation  dies.  I 
had  known  him  personally  for  some  time  as  a  promi- 
nent Indian.  When  he  came  into  the  trading  store, 
he  recognized  me.  Through  an  interpreter  he  told  me 
"his  heart  was  down  in  the  dirt,"  and  when  his  daugh- 
ter died  he  gave  away  everything  he  had  and  was 
now  poor  and  wanted  me  to  "give  him  some  red  In- 
dian cloth  to  wrap  his  daughter  in  to  bury  her."  Three 
yards  of  cloth  at  $2.00  a  yard  was  my  donation. 
I  strolled  down  where  the  lodge  was  being  moved, 
saw  the  box  placed  in  an  agency  wagon    and  driven 


Burial  of  the  Daughter  91 

away  to  a  grassy  mound  west  of  the  agency,  followed 
by  women  and  children  only.  Among  them  were  two 
or  three  professional  criers  who,  on  such  occasions, 
wail  and  weep  more  earnestly  than  do  members  of 
the  family.  The  next  day  American  Horse  went 
around  and  accumulated  about  as  much  plunder  as 

he  had  given  away. 

*     *     * 

A  BRAVE  INDIAN. 

In  1875  a  council  with  the  Sioux  Indians  was  held 
on  Chadron  creek,  Neb.,  near  old  Red  Cloud  agency, 
the  government  being  represented  by  the  full  commis- 
sion consisting  of  the  following:  Senator  W.  B.  Alli- 
son, chairman;  General  Alfred  Terry,  General  E.  F. 
Lawrence,  Senator  E.  Howe,*  Colonel  Comingo  and 
Captain  W.  H.  Ashby,  with  S.  D.  Hinman,  interpreter, 
and  J.  S.  Collins,  named  by  President  Grant,  as  secre- 
tary. 

To  arrange  the  meeting  of  the  various  bands  of  the 
Sioux  at  Chadron  creek  it  was  necessary  to  visit  all 
their  villages,  hold  councils  and  induce  them  to  send 
delegations  of  their  chiefs  and  leading  men  to  Chadron 
in  the  month  of  August.  This  duty  was  performed  by 
Colonel  Comingo,  Captain  Ashby,  S.  D.  Hinman  and 
myself,  with  Joe  Merreville  as  guide  and  interpreter. 
We  traveled  by  wagons  across  the  country  and  through 
the  Black  Hills,  thence  east  to  the  Missouri  river,  to 
Mandan  village,  as  far  north  as  Fort  Sully,  D.  T.,  and 
south  to  the  Santee  Agency  and  to  Omaha. 

This  journey  consumed  two  months'  time,  and  we 
were  accompanied  by  twelve  young  men  selected  by 

•Senator  Howe,  although  appointed  a  member  of  the  com- 
mission, did  not  join  the  other  commissioners. 


92  A  Brave  Indian 

Red  Cloud  and  Spotted  Tail  as  ambassadors  to  give 
our  branch  of  the  commission  the  proper  standing 
among  the  various  bands.  It  will  be  remembered  that 
away  back  in  '75  the  boundary  lines  of  an  Indian  res- 
ervation were  called  "dead  lines."  All  the  tribes  were 
restless  and  dissatisfied,  and  this  hostility  which  pre- 
cipitated the  great  Indian  war  of  1876,  with  General 
George  Crook  at  the  head  and  General  Terry  in  com- 
mand of  troops  embracing  Custer's  command,  was  at 
this  early  day  apparent. 

It  was  known  that  any  proposition  made  to  the  Sioux 
leading  to  the  relinquishment  of  titles  to  their  lands 
would  not  be  kindly  received  and  in  their  then  restless 
mood  it  was  an  undertaking  not  void  of  danger.  The 
greatest  caution  was  necessary  in  broaching  the  sub- 
ject in  councils  to  influence  them  to  send  large  delega- 
tions several  hundred  miles  from  their  villages,  to 
treat  for  the  single  purpose  of 

GIVING  UP  THEIR  LANDS 

in  the  Black  Hills,  which,  with  the  full  knowledge  of 
the  Hills  being  rich  in  gold,  they  had  learned  to  regard 
as  their  "bank." 

The  hardships  of  such  a  journey,  together  with  the 
constant  danger  attending  it,  made  the  task  a  serious 
one  indeed.  All  the  Indian  villages  of  the  Sioux  na- 
tion were  visited,  councils  held  on  the  open  prairie, 
and  after  two  months'  labor  promises  were  obtained 
that  all  the  tribes  visited  would  send  large  delegations 
to  the  grand  council  to  be  held  at  Chadron  in  August. 

The  entire  commission  assembled  at  Chadron  creek 
at  the  appointed  time.  Captain  Egan  (since  dead), 
with  one  company  of  cavalry  from  Fort  Laramie,  ac- 


A  Brave  Indian  93 

companied  the  commission,  partly  to  assist  in  making 
the  council  an  imposing  affair  and  also  to  afford  any 
needed  protection. 

A  tent  was  pitched  under  a  lone  cottonwood  tree, 
and  a  large  canvas  placed  in  front  of  it  to  keep  off  the 
scorching  rays  of  the  sun.  Under  this  canvas  sat  the 
commission    with  Louis  Richards  for  interpreter. 

For  miles  around  the  prairie  was  dotted  with  Indian 
lodges,  the  number  of  Indians  present  being  estimated 
at  20,000.  Great  herds  of  ponies  were  grazing  near  by, 
while  Indians  mounted  and  on  foot  were  hurrying  to 
and  fro,  and  criers  were  haranguing  the  people  to  pre- 
pare for  the  great  council — all  tending  to  lend  a  wierd 
appearance  to  the  scene. 

It  was  high  noon  before  there  was  any  visible  sign 
of  the  Indians  coming  to  the  site  selected  for  the  coun- 
cil, and  to  an  unprejudiced  observer  the  "tout  en- 
semble" of  the  commission  presented  an  insignificant 
appearance  compared  with  that  of  the  7,000  Indians 
present  at  the  council  and  their  gay  and  picturesque 
caravan.  Presently  a  cloud  of  dust  was  seen  in  the 
east.  Two  hundred  mounted  Indians,  decked  out  in 
paint,  feathers  and  gaily-colored  blankets,  came  charg- 
ing down,  all  drawn  up  in  line  abreast 

CARRYING  LOADED  RIFLES. 

Five  hundred  yards  away  they  halted  and  fired  a 
volley  in  the  air.  Then  on  they  came,  singing  and 
chanting  their  war  songs,  and  rode  twice  around  the 
tent,  firing  volley  after  volley.  All  this  manoeuver- 
ing  was  new  to  the  members  of  the  commission.  The 
interpreter  assured  them  it  was  the  Indian  custom  on 
such  occasions  of  splendor,  notwithstanding  the  re^ 


94  A  Brave  Indian 

mark  of  Senator  Allison,  that  such  a  terrific  display  of 
firearms  seemed  unnecessary  at  a  "peace"  council. 
Presently  another  troop  of  Indians  and  another  and 
another  came,  all  going  through  the  same  performance, 
each  band  taking  its  position  beside  the  others,  with 
a  distinct  space  between  the  bands.  Fully  seven  thou- 
sand Indians  were  formed  in  a  circle  around  the  com- 
missioners, and  certainly  a  more  gorgeous  array  of 
painted  and  feathered  red  men  was  never  before  seen. 
Fully  an  hour  elapsed  after  they  were  all  assembled 
before  the  slightest  evidence  was  manifest  that  they 
had  any  business  with  the  commission.  Then  Spotted 
Tail  came  out  from  his  band  of  Brules,  followed  by 
Red  Cloud  from  the  Ogallalas,  then  Two  Kettles  of 
the  Sans  Arcs,  and  others  in  their  turn  until  some 
twenty  of  the  oldest  chiefs  of  the  tribes  formed  in  an 
oblong  circle  a  hundred  yards  from  the  tent. 

Pipes  and  tobacco  were  brought  out,  the  Great  Spirit 
was  invoked,  while  they  all  sat  in  silence  around  the 
circle  with  their  blankets  gathered  around  them. 

It  was  interpreted  that  they  were  deciding  on  who 
the  orators  should  be.  The  fact  was,  no  chief  cared 
to  broatch  the  subject.  It  was  afterwards  learned  that 
threats  had  been  made  by  the  Missouri  river  Indians 
that  if  those  of  the  interior  dared  to  offer  their  lands 
they  would  be  shot  down. 

For  nearly  an  hour  the  situation  was  unchanged  and 
exciting  in  the  extreme.  Then  came  a  prancing  of 
horses  on  the  south  line,  the  column  opened  and  in 
rode  a  solitary  naked  Indian  mounted  bareback  on  an 
iron  gray  horse — a  lariat  for  a  rein,  rifle  in  one  hand, 
the  other  filled  with  loose  catridges,  otherwise  "fly- 


A  Brave  Indian  95 

ing  light"  as  to  the  matter  of  baggage.  The  intruder 
was  Little  Big  Man,  a  belligerent  little  devil  from  the 
north,  who  had  suddenly  appeared  on  the  scene  "un- 
heralded and  unannounced,"  and  with  a  voice  like  the 
roar  of  a  cannon  he  bellowed  out :    "I  am  here 

TO  KILL  A  COMMISSIONER 

that  wants  to  take  my  land  away!"  With  a 
graceful  gesture  Spotted  Tail  waved  the  circle  of 
chiefs  away,  a  few  Indians  gathered  around  the  in- 
truder and  he  was  hastily  ejected  for  his  great  breach 
of  etiquette. 

This  episode  created  a  furore  among  all  the  bands, 
and  in  an  instant  all  was  confusion.  Chairman  Allison 
suggested  that  the  whole  affair  began  to  assume  a 
"business"  aspect. 

Until  now  it  had  not  been  noticed  that  Indians  had 
taken  possession  of  the  line  in  the  rear  of  the  tent  and 
in  front  of  the  calvary.  Captain  Egan  pushed  his  way 
through,  and  addressing  General  Terry  said:  "Gen- 
eral, your  party  is  surrounded  and  my  men  are  shut 
out.  It  looks  ugly."  This  incident  furnished  the  first 
excuse  for  looking  about  and  I  shall  never  forget  the 
"bleached"  appearance  of  the  faces  of  the  commis- 
sioners. 

The  interpreter,  addressing  the  secretary,  said:  "It 
looks  like  h — 1  will  be  to  pay  here  in  a  few  minutes. 
The  Indians  are  all  mad,  and  we'll  catch  it  the  first 
ones."  No  one  seemed  inclined  to  dispute  this  state- 
ment. A  wet  blanket  had  fallen  over  the  business  in 
hand;  the  Indians  had  not  addressed  a  single  word  to 
the  commissioners  and  they  in  turn  had  nothing  to 
reply.    Suddenly  a  rush  was  made  to  the  rear  of  the 


96  A  Brave  Indian 

tent  and  it  appeared  as  if  the  row  had  commenced  in 
earnest.  Thanks  to  the  bravery  and  wisdom  of  the 
young  Ogallala  chief — Young  Man  Afraid  of  His 
Horses — it  was  a  beginning  to  prevent  trouble 
Young  Man  Afraid,  seeing  the  danger,  dashed  into  the 
crowd,  summoned  his  Indian  soldiers  and  placed  them 
immediately  in  front  of  Captain  Egan's  soldiers,  so  the 
Indians'  fire  would  fall  upon  their  own  people.  It 
was  an  act  of  remarkable  bravery  and  he  followed  it 
up  by  rushing  out  into  the  circle  and  ordering  all  the 
Indians  to  disperse  and  go  to  their  lodges  and  not 
come  into  council  "till  their  heads  were  cool."  Almost 
instantly  the  Indians  began  skurrying  away  to  their 
lodges,  leaving  the  commissioners  and  Captain  Egan's 
troops  to  saunter  back  to  the  agency. 

It  was  three  days  before  another  council  was  called, 
and  by  this  time  the  Indians  had  selected  their  speak- 
ers.   The  commissioners  met  them  on  the  same  ground, 
and  business  proceeded  without  interruption.* 
*      5k      * 

A  HUNTING  TRIP  WITH   CARL  SCHURZ,  WEBB 
C.  HAYES  AND  ARTIST  GAULLIER. 

Some  time  after  the  above  incident,  Carl  Schurz 
then  Secretary  of  the  Interior  under  President  Hayes, 
accompanied  by  Webb  C.  Hayes  and  Mr.  Gaullier, 
an  artist  from  Switzerland,  visited  the  Indian  agencies 
along  the  Upper  Missouri  river  and  came  overland 
through  the  agencies  of  Spotted  Tail  and  Red  Cloud 
to  Fort  Laramie.  On  invitation  I  accompanied  the 
party  to  the  Laramie  mountains.     Two    days    were 

•This  account  of  the  meeting  was  written  by  me  and  pub- 
lished in  the  Omaha  Mercury  some  years  ago. 


A  Hunting  Trip  with  Carl  Schurz  97 

spent  at  the  post.  During  a  call  the  party  made  at  my 
house.  I  related  the  saying  of  Spotted  Tail  "If  you 
don't  pray,"  etc.  That  it  made  an  impression  on  at  least 
one  of  the  party  was  evidenced  by  what  followed.  N.  R 
Davis,  a  business  partner  of  Qarence  King,  who  was 
then  at  the  head  of  the  survey  of  the  Fortieth  Parallel, 
came  from  Cheyenne  to  escort  the  secretary  and  party 
to  the  mountains  on  a  hunt  for  big  game.  Mr.  Davis 
brought  with  him  his  own  teams,  tents  and  supplies. 
With  him  came  Harry  Yount,  the  hunter  and  guide; 
also,  Charpiot,  the  famous  cook,  from  Denver. 

I  was  familiar  with  the  trail  and  the  country,  and 
Hayes  and  myself  with  my  span  of  crack  broncos,  that 
was  at  any  time  capable  of  seventy-five  miles  in  one 
day  and  return  the  next,  drove  ahead  of  the  teams 
to  Point  of  Rocks,  about  forty-five  miles,  expecting 
the  party  to  camp  here  the  first  night.  They  were  not 
able  to  reach  this  camp  and  stopped  sixteen  miles  be- 
hind at  the  foot-hills.  We  had  our  beds  and  a  lunch 
in  the  buggy.  Being  in  a  game  country  and  having 
killed  an  antelope,  we  were  as  independent  as  "a  ship 
at  sea,"  and  contented  as  to  our  personal  comfort.  We 
laid  our  bed  on  the  grass  and  slept  "the  sleep  of  the 
just."  When  the  teams  arrived  the  following  day, 
the  secretary  reprimanded  us  severely  for  what  he 
deemed  a  "foolhardy  thing  for  two  men  to  do  alone 
in  an  Indian  country."  From  the  Point  of  Rocks  we 
drove  to  the  foot  of  Laramie  Peak.  Years  before, 
the  government  set  aside  a  timber  reserve;  a  stockade 
was  built,  inside  of  which  were  a  saw-mill  and  build- 
ings for  use  of  the  soldiers  and  the  men  employed 
in  cutting  logs.     When  the  saw-mill  was  moved  to 


98  A  Hunting  Trip  with  Car!  Schurz 

Fort  Laramie  the  place  was  abandoned.  Soon  after, 
a  plucky  cattleman  named  Frank  Prager  took  pos- 
session, kept  his  horses  inside  and  occupied  one  of  the 
log  buildings  for  living  quarters.  A  war  party  of 
Sioux  "jumped"  him  one  day  and  drove  him  in  where 
they  kept  him  corralled  for  three  days.  There  were 
no  settlers  nearer  than  Qiugwater,  twenty-five  miles. 
Prager  had  a  supply  of  arms  and  provisions,  and 
"stood  the  Indians  off"  until  they  gave  up  the  job  of 
starving  him  out. 

At  the  base  of  this  mountain  we  made  camp  near 
a  beautiful  spring.  When  Webb  Hayes  and  myself 
drove  up  with  the  broncos  Mr.  Davis  met  us  and  said, 
"Now  we  have  got  you  in  camp  where  our  cook  will 
get  a  whack  at  you  and  he  will  give  you  such  a  din- 
ner that  you  won't  be  able  to  run  away  from  us  again." 
This  was  the  first  chance  Charpiot  had  to  convince 
anyone  that  he  could  cook  any  better  than  the  ordinary 
mountain  men.  Secretary  Schurz  got  out  of  his  sad- 
dle and  lay  down  on  the  grass  to  rest.  When  Char- 
piot announced  "dinner,"  I  remember  the  big  laugh 
of  the  secretary,  when  he  said,  "Who  ever  expected  to 
get  clam  chowder,  fillet  of  beef  and  omelet,  et  ceteras — 
a  seventeen  course  dinner — under  the  shade  of  Laramie 
Peak?" 

After  crossing  the  Laramie  mountains,  we  skirted 
along  the  foothills  just  on  the  edge  of  Laramie  plains 
and  stopped  at  a  fine  spring  near  Duck  creek.  Here 
we  found  a  rough  cabin,  with  an  opening  for  a  door. 
Across  this  was  a  rope  to  keep  animals  from  entering. 
A  grizzly  bear  hide  was  nailed  on  the  cabin  walls. 
On  the  roof  lay  two  freshly  killed  mountain  sheep. 


A  Hunting  Trip  with  Carl  Schurz  9Q 

Frank  Prager,  the  ranchman  mentioned  above,  greeted 
us.     I  asked,  "When  did  you  desert  the  stockade?" 

"Oh,"  he  said,  "the  d d  Indians  made  it  too  hot  for 

me  down  there  and  I  moved  up  here  last  spring." 
He  offered  us  a  saddle  of  mutton,  (mountain  sheep) 
and  told  us  that  two  bears  had  paid  him  a  visit  the 
night  before  and  tried  to  get  at  the  mountain  sheep. 
One  of  the  bears  came  in  the  cabin  and  woke  him  up, 
and  he  took  a  shot  at  him.  Then  they  left.  "I  have 
plenty  of  company  up  here,  but  some  cf  them  I  don't 
want  to  have  around,"  he  said. 

Our  party  drove  west  and  up  into  the  mountains, 
where  we  spent  four  days  hunting  elk,  deer  and  moun- 
tain sheep  with  fair  success. 

The  following  winter  I  went  to  Washington,  D.  C. 
Webb  Hayes  called  at  the  Ebbit  house  and  took  me 
to  the  White  House,  where  I  was  a  guest  four  days. 
The  unvaried  courtesy  and  kindness  shown  me  by  the 
President  and  his  family  was  most  cordial;  including 
me  in  every  event  and  entertainment  the  other  guests 
participated  in,  which  were  numerous  and  most  inter- 
esting. The  President  and  Mrs.  Hayes  occasionally 
joined  the  party,  escorted  by  Webb  Hayes.  Webb 
gave  me  his  own  private  room.  The  furnishings  of 
the  room  were  not  modern.  They  were  old  fashioned, 
substantial  in  quality  and  suitable  in  design.  A  long 
plate  glass  mirror,  with  gilded  frame,  reaching  to  the 
ceiling,  rested  on  a  marble  base.  Across  the  center 
of  the  glass  Webb  had  pasted  a  sheet  of  letter  paper, 
on  which  was  written  in  his  fine  Italian  hand,  "  *If  you 
don't  pray  before  you  eat,  you  won't  steal.' — Spotted 
Tail." 


THE  HUNTER'S  PARADISE. 

From  about  1878  up  to  the  time  of  the  death  of 
Major  General  George  Crook,  it  was  his  custom  to  go 
to  the  Rocky  mountains  every  October  to  hunt 
big  game  and  it  was  my  good  fortune  to  accompany 
him  on  every  trip  for  twelve  years,  together  with  a 
number  of  gentlemen  he  invited  at  different  times. 
The  party  did  not  always  include  the  same  people  and 
the  locality  was  not  always  the  same. 

On  one  of  these  excursions  in  October,  1880,  the 
party  consisted  of  Ex-Governor  Romualdo  Pacheco  of 
California,  Webb  C.  Hayes,  Major  James  P.  Lord  of 
the  U.  S.  army  and  his  nephew  Russell  Tracey,  A.  E. 
Touzalin  and  myself. 

The  Government  pack  train,  stationed  at  Fort  D. 
A.  Russell,  Wyoming,  consisting  of  about  seventy-five 
mules  equipped  with  aparejos,  in  charge  of  Thomas 
Moore,  chief  packer  and  ten  assistants,  which  together 
with  a  four-mule  ambulance  and  a  saddle  mule  for  each 
of  the  party,  was  sent  to  Rock  Creek  station  on  the 
Union  Pacific  railroad,  to  carry  the  party  to  the  hunt- 
ing grounds. 

Excepting  Mr.  Touzalin,  who  was  to  join  us  later, 
the  party  left  the  station  about  October  5th,  camping  at 
Medicine  Bow  creek  the  first  night.  The  next  day  we 
traveled  northeast  to  the  spur  of  mountains  at  the  head 
of  Deer  creek,  arriving  in  time  for  an  early  dinner. 

As  we  drove  over  the  low  divide  and  in  sight  of 
where  camp  was  to  be  made,  an  hundred  elk  were  ly- 
ing down  at  the  spring.  They  were  of  course  greatly 
surprised  at  our  sudden  appearance  and  jumping  to 
their  feet  sauntered  leisurely  away. 


The  Hunter's  Paradise  101 

After  the  second  day  at  this  camp,  Webb  Hayes 
and  myself  went  by  ambulance  to  Rock  Creek  to  meet 
Mr.  Touzalin,  leading  four  extra  mules  as  far  as  Med- 
incine  Bow  creek,  for  a  relay  on  our  return  trip,  to 
enable  us  to  make  the  drive  of  sixty  miles  back  to 
camp  in  one  day. 

We  found  the  gentleman  in  his  car  waiting  for  us. 

The  next  morning  we  made  an  early  start,  Touza- 
lin accompanying  us.  A  few  miles  out  from  the  sta- 
tion we  came  on  a  broad  plateau,  dotted  with  scatter- 
ing bands  of  antelope.  The  drive  before  us  being  a 
long  one,  we  made  no  stop,  but  enjoyed  the  view  as 
we  drove  on. 

Arriving  at  the  relay  creek,  we  ate  lunch,  changed 
mules  and  lost  no  time  in  getting  away. 

A  mile  from  this  creek  we  saw  a  rare  and  beautiful 
sight,  two  young  buck 

ANTELOPES  FIGHTING. 

A  dozen  does  and  fawns  were  lined  up  looking  on 
with  seemingly  as  much  interest  as  would  a  crowd  of 
men  watch  a  pair  of  pugilists  in  a  prize  ring.  The 
bucks  would  rush  together,  push  and  jam  with  all 
their  might  and,  as  their  position  would  change,  the 
dainty  does  and  fawns  would  move  around  to  get  out 
of  the  way  of  the  fighters.  When  the  bucks  became 
exhausted  they  would  break  away,  take  a  breathing 
spell  and  go  at  it  again. 

We  watched  this  novel  and  beautiful  picture  some 
time,  then  drove  on,  leaving  them  with  heads  still  to- 
gether and  about  to  give  up  the  fight  from  sheer  ex- 
haustion. 

After  riding  a  few  miles  we  came  in  sight  of  two 


102  The  Hunter's  Paradise 

veteran  buck  antelopes  out  on  the  level  plain  settling 
a  dispute  between  themselves.  This  evidently  was  the 
fight  of  their  lives,  its  fierceness  equalled  that  of  two 
Texas  bulls.  With  heads  and  horns  together,  noses 
almost  reaching  the  ground,  tongues  hanging  out  and 
foam  dripping  from  their  mouths,  they  were  so  earn- 
estly engaged  we  drove  to  within  a  hundred  yards,  so 
near  we  could  see  their  glassy  eyes  bulging  out  and 
no  attention  was  paid  to  our  presence.  Both  seemed 
tired  and  willing  to  rest,  both  made  frantic  rushes  at 
the  same  time,  the  sound  of  their  horns  when  they  met 
cracked  like  a  pistol  shot.  It  was  remarked  that  we 
could  walk  within  ten  feet  of  the  scrapping,  and  Touz- 
alin  thought  to  kill  them  both  would  be  an  act  of 
mercy,  but  we  had  a  long  road  ahead  of  us  and  no  time 
to  loiter  so  we  drove  away,  leaving  the  fight  unfinished. 
The  object  of  this  fight, 

A  LADY  ANTELOPE, 

stood  on  an  elevation  a  few  hundred  yards  away 
watching  the  contest  with  great  interest.  We  arrived 
at  camp  in  good  season. 

When  General  Crook  came  in  one  evening,  he  told 
us  of  having  seen  a  band  of  elk  lying  down  under 
scattering  pine  trees  on  a  mountain  side  down  near 
Bates'  Hole.  As  the  Governor  and  Mr.  Touzalin  had 
never  seen  elk  in  their  native  haunts,  he  was  anxious 
they  should  witness  them  and  he  came  away  without 
disturbing  them.  The  distance  was  about  twelve  miles, 
where  the  last  of  the  pine  trees  grew  and  the  moun- 
tains gradually  sloped  off  to  rolling  bluffs  and  plain. 

The  next  morning  the  party,  including  Mr.  Moore 
and  the  packers  leaving  only  two  drivers  in  camp. 


The  Hunter's  Paradise  103 

each  with  a  lunch  in  his  saddle  pocket,  mounted  a 
saddle  mule  and  followed  the  General  on  a  somewhat 
silent  march.  Occasionally  a  black  tail  deer  would 
streak  across  our  trail,  or  a  bunch  of  blue  grouse  fly 
up  from  the  streams  that  trickled  away  from  the 
springs,  but  so  eager  was  the  party  to  come  onto  the 
sights  in  prospect,  not  a  shot  was  fired.  Just  before 
noon  we  came  to  a  halt  and  dismounted  behind  a  cliff 
of  rocks.  The  General  looked  over  all  approaches 
to  make  sure  of  the  game  being  there  before  bringing 
the  party  nearer.  When  our  mules  were  securely 
tied  he  led  us  two  hundred  yards  to  a  split  rock,  where 
one  side  had  fallen  and  opened  a  seam  for  twenty  feet 
from  top  to  base,  the  opening  wide  enough  for  one 
person  to  see  through.  Just  at  hand  was  a  small  spring 
and  here  we  ate  our  lunch.  The  General  had  taken  a 
view  of  surroundings  and  found  the  elk  were  still  on 
the  ground  where  he  had  left  them.  He  said  nothing 
as  to  the  exact  locality  until  all  had  finished  lunch, 
then  he  stepped  to  the  opening  in  the  rock  and  called 
the  Governor  to  his  side.  When  he  retired  each  in  his 
turn  took  a  view  of  the  picture.  We  were  closer  than 
three  hundred  yards  and  just  across  a  stream  was  the 
band  of 

OVER  TWO   HUNDRED  ELK. 

Some  were  lying  down,  a  few  cows  were  feeding  their 
calves,  the  bulls  sauntered  on  the  outer  line  of  the  herd 
prodding  the  cows  with  their  horns  to  keep  them  close 
herded. 

In  every  band  of  elk  there  is  a  thrifty  young  bull 
who  lords  it  over  the  entire  herd.  If  they  rebel,  he 
whips  them  into  submission  or  drives  them  out.  Other 
bulls  that  remain    tamely    submit    to    his    lordship's 


104  The  Hunter's  Paradise 

authority.  The  peace  and  quiet  of  it  all  and  the  ro- 
mantic surroundings  so  impressed  us  that  not  a 
shot  was  fired.  After  viewing  this  living  picture  an  hour 
we  quietly  stole  away  leaving  the  elk  in  the  enjoyment 
of  their  solitude. 

THE    YEAR    FOLLOWING 

our  tents  were  pitched  two  miles  nearer  the  mountains 
at  the  mouth  of  a  deep  canyon,  where  the  willows  and 
quaking  asp  trees  grew  so  thick  it  was  impossible  to 
walk  through  them. 

As  early  as  October  there  occasionally  came  a  snow 
fall.  No  Indian,  guide  or  hunter,  possessed  a  more 
thorough  knowledge,  and  took  better  advantage  of  the 
surroundings,  or  was  able  to  select  the  very  best  spot 
to  pitch  tents  to  guard  against  all  possibilities  of  dis- 
comfort than  was  our  able  and  genial  General. 

When  tents  were  up  the  sky  was  overcast,  the  wind 
in  the  east,  and  there  were  signs  of  a  snow  storm. 

*' Moore !  pick  out  a  place  near  the  edge,  clear  away 
the  willows  and  grub  the  stubble  out  for  our  tents.  We 
may  get  good  tracking  snow  for  bear  by  morning," 
said  the  General  to  the  chief  packer. 

By  the  time  the  tents  were  up  and  everything 
housed,  the  wind  began  to  blow  and  it  increased  to  a 
howling  blizzard.  Had  we  been  out  of  the  willows  and 
in  the  open,  not  a  vestige  of  our  camp  would  have  re- 
mained, but  we  were  snuggled  away  and  as  comfort- 
able as  if  in  a  house. 

TRULY  A  RED  LETTER  DAY. 

The  next  morning  a  foot  of  snow  lay  on  the  ground, 
and  that  is  the  day  our  General  met  his  big  grizzly 


The  Hunter's  Paradise  105 

that  raised  on  his  haunches  twenty  feet  away.  When 
he  opened  his  mouth  to  growl,  a  bullet  went  straight 
in  his  mouth,  knocking  out  his  front  teeth  and  break- 
ing his  neck.  It  was  also  the  day  that  Tom  Moore 
killed  his  two  cub  bears,  and  Major  Lord  with  Yeoulle 
and  another  packer,  whose  name  I  do  not  recall,  killed 
a  she  bear  and  two  cubs. 

I  was  out  a  day  with  one  of  the  packers.  We  had 
crossed  back  over  the  range  coming  towards  camp  and 
dropped  into  a  canyon  that  opened  out  on  the  plain. 
After  traveling  half  a  mile  we  found  a  dead  cow  elk 
on  the  trail,  and  as  we  followed  down  the  canyon, 
came  to  another  and  another  until  we  counted  seven- 
teen head,  which  only  a  few  days  before  had  been  killed 
by  a  party  of  Englishmen  who  came  over  from  Eng- 
land to  visit  some  English  ranchmen  and  cattle  own- 
ers, and  incidentally  made  a  hunt  to  see  how  many 
head  of  game  they  could  kill  in  America. 

SEVENTEEN    ELK    LEFT   TO    ROT 

no  doubt  was  one  of  the  bags  reported  to  their  friends 
back  in  England.  This  is  a  fair  sample  of  the  hunting 
followed  by  these  people  for  years  while  the  game  was 
plenty  and  easy  to  kill.  Is  it  any  wonder  that  elk 
are  diminishing  and  that  the  remaining  ones  have 
left  their  old  feeding  grounds? 

The  day  of  the  successful  bear  hunt  Mr.  Touzalin 
was  tired  out  and  did  not  go  out  with  the  hunters. 
Later  he  saddled  up  and  rode  out  alone  in  the  sage 
brush  flats  after  antelope,  which  was  easier  than  climb- 
ing over  the  mountain  chasing  bear. 

At  a  stream  he  dismounted  to  quench  his  thirst. 
Part  of  his  trail  rope  was  wound  around  the  horn  of 
his  saddle  and  a  few  coils  of  the  knotted  end  he  car- 


106  The  Hunter's  Paradise 

ried  in  his  hand.  When  he  lay  down  to  drink,  frog 
fashion,  the  mule  evidently  did  not  like  his  ungrace- 
ful attitude.  The  rope  end  he  held  pulled  only  on  the 
saddle  horn.  The  mule  started  out  for  the  other  side. 
Touzalin  held  on  to  the  rope  and  was  dragged  head 
first  through  the  creek.  They  parted  company  on  the 
opposite  bank  and  the  mule  started  immediately  to- 
wards camp.  Touzalin's  bump  of  locality  was  not  well 
developed  and  if  the  mule  left  him,  the  chances  were 
he  would  spend  the  night  on  the  sage  brush  plain,  an 
experience  hunters  sometimes  have.  Major  Lord  and 
his  nephew  had  a  night  of  this  kind  on  this  same  trip 
and  they  both  agree  that  it  was  the  longest  night  of 
their  lives.  Touzalin  managed  to  keep  in  sight  of  the 
mule  and  was  guided  safely  in. 

After  resting  a  day  he  and  I  rode  down  beyond 
Bates'  Hole  and  over  the  grassy  hills — a  part  of 
the  country  we  had  not  hunted  over.  Out  on  the 
ridges  the  wind  was  blowing  a  gale  and  it  was  difficult 
getting  within  range  of  deer  or  elk.  Trails  led  in 
every  direction.  Suddenly  we  came  to  an  old  bull  elk 
lying  down  on  the  edge  of  a  ravine  and  out  of  the 
wind,  sound  asleep,  only  ten  yards  away.  We  were 
walking  and  leading  our  mules.  Touzalin  took  the 
shot  and  his  bullet  hit  high  on  the  shoulder.  This  did 
not  prevent  the  elk  from  jumping  to  his  feet  and  start- 
ing over  the  hill.  As  he  ran  away  I  shot  and  broke 
his  hip  before  he  was  out  of  sight.  We  crossed  the 
hill  and  again  came  in  sight  as  he  hobbled  away  to- 
w^ards  the  creek.  Here  we  sat  down  on  a  rock  and 
fired  a  dozen  cartridges.  One  of  Touzalin's  shots 
made  him  shake  his  head  violently.  Half  a  mile  away 
he  fell  on  the  bank  dead.     When  dressed  and  while 


The  Hunter's  Paradise  107 

examining  his  fine  antlers  we  found  a  bullet  had  gone 
through  the  trunk  of  one  horn,  making  a  hole  as  clean 
cut  as  if  made  by  a  gimlet.  When  butchered  we  tied 
a  handkerchief  on  one  horn  to  keep  the  wolves  away. 

On  our  way  back  we  found  an  enormous  mule  deer 
under  the  edge  of  a  bluff  feeding.  His  horns  were 
larger  than  any  we  had  taken.  By  the  time  we  dis- 
mounted the  deer  had  started  from  the  level  down  a 
steep  hill.  A  bullet  hit  the  base  of  one  horn,  sending 
him  headlong  with  a  broken  neck.  While  I  was  pre- 
paring this  fine  animal,  Touzalin  caught  sight  of  some 
packers  returning  with  Major  Lord  and  Tracey  with 
carcasses  of  three  elk  they  had  killed  the  day  before. 
They  were  a  mile  away.  Attracting  their  attention  the 
packers  came  to  us.  One  of  the  men  was  Delany, 
well  known  throughout  the  mountains,  and  as  far 
south  as  Arizona.  A  veteran  packer  and  hunter. 
Four  of  the  mules  were  packed  with  three  elk,  and  to 
carry  our  big  deer,  the  load  on  the  biggest  and  strong- 
est mule  was  distributed  on  the  other  three.  Four 
packers  lifted  him  to  the  mule's  back.  When  in  place, 
Delany  remarked  "that's  the  biggest  deer  I  ever  pack- 
ed on  a  mule,he  will  weigh  over  three  hundred  pounds." 
By  appointment  two  men  had  come  down  from  camp 
with  an  ambulance  to  meet  us  at  a  creek  and  save  a 
ride  in  the  saddle  for  ten  miles.  While  waiting  in 
the  valley  for  our  return,  a  poor,  wretched  cow  elk 
came  down  from  the  mountain  side  and  in  attempting 
to  cross  the  creek,  fell  down  and  could  not  get  on  her 
feet  again.  The  men  killed  her  with  stones.  She  ev- 
idently had  been  wounded  or  crippled  and  was  not  able 
to  keep  up  with  her  band. 

When  the  packers  went  after  our  big  elk  the  follow- 


108  The  Hunter's  Paradise 

ing  day,  although  the  carcass  had  been  carefully  dress- 
ed the  meat  had  spoiled.  Only  the  hide  and 
antlers  were  brought  in.  The  big  elk  horns  were  sent 
to  J.  M.  Forbes,  Boston,  Mass.,  and  used  for  a  hat 
rack,  and  the  deer  horns  accompanied  them. 

From  the  mountain  slope  behind  our  camp  at  times 
could  be  seen  four  or  five  bands  of  elk  with  three 
to  five  hundred  in  each  band.  A  sweep  of  the  eye  over 
the  plain  would  cover  as  many  as  two  thousand.  At 
the  spring  heads  of  the  streams  coming  from  the 
mountain  sides  blue  grouse  were  abundant.  On  the 
sage  brush  flats  were  flocks  and  droves  of  sage  grouse. 
Elk,  mule  deer  and  antelope  were  so  numerous  we  kill- 
ed only  the  bucks,  and  a  number  of  fine  horns  were 
brought  home  as  trophies  of  the  hunt  and  were  from 
time  to  time  presented,  to  friends  of  the  hunting  party. 

Delany  was  a  most  persistent  hunter.  When  he  came 
in  at  dark  after  a  tedious  and  fruitless  ride  and  found 
six  bear  in  camp  he  told  his  story  of  a  long  ride  with 
no  results  and  was  as  sullen  as  a  Sioux  Indian.  He 
had  seen  "plenty  sign"  but  no  bear. 

Tracks  lead  towards  a  long  canyon  that  headed 
just  at  the  top  of  the  range  and  scarcely  twenty  feet 
away  a  canyon  headed  on  the  other  side,  leaving  a 
passage  way  about  the  width  of  a  railroad  grade. 
Each  day  one  of  the  party  passed  over  this  narrow 
passage  and  noted  the  fact  that  it  was  a  fine  prospect 
for  bear.  A  canyon  straight  away  from  the  creek 
to  the  summit,  and  a  similar  one  just  on  the  other  slope. 
Delany  had  crossed  this  trail  on  his  day's  ride. 

After  supper  he  proposed  to  Mr.  Moore  that  the 
entire  party  "drive"  one  of  these  canyons.  All  agreed 
and  the  next  day  the  snow  being  gone,  the  entire  party 


The  Hunter's  Paradise  109 

hunters,  packers  and  teamsters  made  an  early  start 
for  the  head  of  the  canyon  on  the  southern  slope.  The 
plan  for  driving  the  gulch  was  left  to  Delany.  He 
formed  the  party  in  a  line  all  abreast  and  moved  to- 
wards the  valley,  whooping,  yelling  and  making  all 
the  noise,  possible,  keeping  the  line  intact  to  prevent  a 
bear  going  through  in  case  we  started  one  and  it 
turned  back,  instead  of  going  ahead.  Bunches  of 
brush,  willows,  tall  grass,  in  fact  about  every 
foot  of  the  ground  that  was  not  open,  was  gone  over 
for  a  distance  of  three  miles.  The  plan  was  well  car- 
ried out,  the  disappointment  was  that  no  bear  was 
started  and  we  gave  up  the  drive.  The  locality  was 
dubbed  ''Bear  Gulch"  where  ''General  Crook's  party 
drove  the  canyon,"  and  to  this  day  the  name  clings  to 
it.  On  our  return  each  followed  his  own  inclination. 
Delany  and  I  crossed  the  range  and  rode  down  the 
other  side.  When  about  half  way  a  noise  was  heard 
like  the  grunt  of  a  hog,  coming  from  a  thick  bunch  of 
willows.  The  ground  being  soft  and  marshy  neither 
cared  to  venture  in  as  we  could  not  see  a  foot  ahead. 
On  one  side  was  a  rock  about  twenty  feet  high  and 
DIelany  climbed  to  the  top  of  it  while  I  went  above  to 
cross  over  the  creek.  Crack  went  a  shot  from  his 
eighteen  pound  Sharp's  rifle.  There  was  a  thrashing 
of  the  willows  and  more  grunts.  He  had  caught  sight 
of  a  moving  black  object  and  without  being  able  to 
distinguish  what  it  was  sent  a  bullet  in  as  a 
messenger.  The  shot  attracted  my  attention  and 
I  was  soon  at  his  side.  A  big  black  object 
lay  in  the  grass  and  mud  groaning  and  scarcely  able 
to  move.  We  sat  down  on  the  rock  waiting  for  it  to 
die  or  show  some  sign  of  getting  away.     When  all 


110  The  Hunter's  Paradise 

sign  of  life  was  gone  we  moved  with  great  caution 
towards  the  object.  The  bullet  had  gone  in  under  the 
ear  broken  the  neck  bone  and  passed  out  on  the  other 
side.  It  was  a  grizzly  bear,  so  fat  and  clumsy  it  could 
scarcely  drag  its  unwieldly  frame  faster  than  a  slow 
walk.  A  rope  was  tied  around  its  neck  and  to  the  sad- 
dle on  a  mule,  but  it  was  impossible  to  drag  it  through 
the  willows.  With  our  hunting  hatchets  a  place  was 
cleared  away  and  the  brute  placed  in  a  position  for 
skinning  where  it  lay.  When  the  hide  was  off  and  the 
carcass  rolled  back  on  its  belly,  it  had  the  appearance 
of  a  mass  of  white  fat  and  did  not  in  the  least  resem- 
ble an  animal.  With  hunting  knife,  the  blade  four 
inches  long,  an  incision  was  made  just  between  the 
shoulders.  The  blade  did  not  reach  the  meat.  Curious 
to  know  "upon  what  meats  had  this,  our  Caesar,  fed, 
that  he  had  grown  so  great,"  we  examined  the 
intestines  and  found  in  the  stomach  an  oblong  ball 
of  hard  clay,  weighing  at  least  two  pounds.  The  bear 
was  cut  in  four  quarters,  hung  on  trees,  and  left  for 
the  packers  to  bring  in  next  day.  Moore  and  Delany 
were  of  the  opinion  that  the  bear  had  licked  a  bank  of 
sweet  clay.  Such  places  are  often  seen  in  the  moun- 
tains where  elk  and  deer  frequented  as  they  would  a 
"salt  lick."  The  bear  having  taken  so  much  in  his 
stomach  there  was  no  room  for  other  food  and  on  this 
he  had  became  so  fat  he  could  scarcely  walk. 
From  each  quarter  a  slab  of  fat  was  taken  two  to  five 
inches  thick.  The  fat  alone  weighed  nearly  one  hun- 
dred and  fifty  pounds.  The  hair  was  in  fine  season, 
jet  black  and  glossy.  The  tips  shone  in  the  sun  like 
burnished  steel. 

Hair  balls  are  occasionally  found  in  the  stomach  of 


The  Hunter's  Paradise  111 

cattle,  but  the  hunters  agreed  that  a  mud  ball  in  a  bear's 
stomach  was  a  revelation. 

ELK  IN   POCKET. 

While  eating  supper  Major  Lord  said,  "Collins, 
let's  take  an  early  start  and  go  round  the  horn  tomor- 
row." Deer  creek  broke  through  the  mountains  east 
of  camp  and  came  out  on  the  plains  north, 
running  to  the  Platte  river,  near  Wolcott  station  on 
the  Elkhorn  railroad.  A  game  trail  led  along  at  the 
foot  of  the  north  side  of  the  mountain  leading  to  the 
plain  west  then  crossed  over  to  the  south  side,  where 
General  Crook  had  shown  us  the  elk,  thence  east  to  the 
camp.  The  round  trip  was  about  twenty-five  miles 
and  the  trip  was  called  "going  round  the  horn." 

Through  the  rocky  gorge,  where  Deer  creek  flowed 
north,  was  the  only  favorable  ground  for  mountain 
sheep.  Our  field  glasses  were  in  constant  use,  but  we 
found  no  sheep.  After  going  through  and  following 
at  the  foot  of  the  mountain  on  the  north  side  about 
half  way  we  met  Touzalin  and  one  of  the  packers. 
They  were  coming  from  the  opposite  direction  having 
taken  the  trail  going  west  from  camp  to  "round  the 
horn."  Being  fifty  miles  from  habitation  Touzalin 
soliloquised  at  our  meeting  and  remarked,  "How  small 
the  world  is,  let's  eat  lunch  together  and  commemorate 
the  meeting  with  a  big  drink  of  whiskey."  The  day 
was  perfect,  the  air  crisp  and  the  sun  behind  a  cloud. 
The  mules  were  turned  loose  to  graze  and  we  threw 
ourselves  on  the  green  grass  to  rest,  eat  lunch, 
and  enjoy  the  incident.  In  an  hour  we  parted  com- 
pany, the  Major  and  myself  changed  our  plan  and 
went  straight  up  the  mountain  side  through  the  pines 
to  the  summit,  then  down  a  valley  leading  to  a  rocky 


112  The  Hunter's  Paradise 

canyon,  where  the  trail  grew  rough  and  we  had  to  dis- 
mount. While  I  stopped  to  tighten  the  saddle  cinch, 
the  Major  kept  on  and  got  out  of  sight.  I  whistled 
and  he  came  in  sight  throwing  both  hands  wildly,  and 
waving  his  hat.  He  was  so  excited  he  could 
scarcely  speak.  When  his  breath  came  to  him  he  tried 
to  whisper  his  explanation,  but  his  voice  could  be  heard 
a  hundred  yards.  ''We've  got  'em  in  a  pocket  and 
can  load  the  pack  train  right  here  and  go  to  the  rail- 
road tomorrow." 

We  led  our  mules  behind  the  rocks,  and  tied  them 
within  a  short  distance.  We  looked  through  an  open 
space  in  an  irregular  wall  of  rock  and  the  sight  be- 
fore us  caused  our  hearts  to  beat  double  quick.  Two 
hundred  elk  in  a  pocket  and  less  than  two  hundred 
yards  away!  Behind  them  was  a  high  cliff  of  rock, 
that  had  crumbled  and  broken  away  and  fallen  to 
form  the  ends.  The  formation  in  front  was  a  long 
line  of  boulders  and  we  stood  in  the  only  opening — ^a 
space  twenty  feet  wide.  The  feed  in  among  the  rocks 
in  the  corral  was  fine.  A  spring  came  out  of  the  rocks 
and  ran  along  down  through  the  opening  where  we 
stood.  The  elk  were  completely  hemmed  in.  All 
threw  their  heads  in  the  air,  with  eyes  and  ears  pointed 
to  us.  Instantly  they  began  moving  about  and  real- 
ized there  was  no  chance  for  escape.  We  calmly 
looked  the  herd  over.  There  were  cows  and  calves, 
spike  bucks  and  bucks  with  every  variety  of  horns, 
such  as  they  were. 

I  said,  "Major,  there  is  not  a  fine  set  of  horns  in 
the  entire  bunch.  What  do  you  say  to  letting  them 
file  out  in  front  of  us?  We  are  a  long  ways  from 
camp  and  you  know  we  agreed  to  bring  in  no  horns 


The  Hunter's  Paradise  113 

unless  they  were  good  ones."  The  Major  was  beside 
himself,  "My  God !  what  a  picture,  and  so  easy,"  he 
said.  By  this  time  the  elk  began  milling,  ttiat  is,  going 
around  in  a  circle.  We  stood  aside  to  let  them  come 
out.  They  would  make  no  move  in  that  direction, 
while  we  were  in  sight.  The  elk  were  not  nearly  so 
excited  as  we  were  and  we  were  puzzled  to  know 
what  to  do  with  them.  While  we  stood  in  or  near  the 
opening  they  would  not  come  that  way.  Again  and 
again  we  would  look  them  over  for  fine  horns.  They 
were  mostly  young  elk.  There  were  a  few  old  veterans 
whose  horns  were  irregular  or  broken  from  fighting, 
none  being  as  symetrical  as  those  we  had  in  camp. 
We  sat  down  on  a  rock  and  tried  to  decide  on  a  course 
of  action.  We  had  traveled  nearly  eight  hundred 
miles  to  kill  elk.  We  had  hunted  the  mountain  and 
plain  over  for  ten  days  with  only  this  in  view.  Here 
were  two  hundred  at  our  mercy.  An  hour  spent  in 
watching  them  and  not  a  shot  fired  or  an  effort  made 
to  bag  the  game  we  were  looking  for,  but  we  had 
promised  the  General  we  would  kill  only  for  fine  ant- 
lers. There  were  no  fine  ones  in  this  bunch.  So, 
much  against  our  inclination,  and  having  in  mind  the 
seventeen  head  killed  by  the  Englishmen  and  left  on 
the  ground,  to  rot,  we  preferred  to  go  into  camp  and 
relate  our  adventures  and  act  in  obedience  to  the 
wishes  of  the  General  that  "no  game  would  be  slaught- 
ered," rather  than  wantonly  disregard  them.  As  loth 
as  we  were  to  leave  them  we  walked  through  the  open- 
ing and  around  to  one  side  and  actually  drove  them 
out  and  away  from  us,  without  firing  a  shot. 

The  valley  leading  towards  camp  narrowed  down 
for  a  distance  and  then  widened  out.    A  bar  had  form- 


114  The  Hunter's  Paradise 

ed  in  the  center .  covering  several  acres  of  loose  rock 
and  fallen  trees,  and  grown  up  with  small  pines  and 
underbrush.  Our  direction  led  us  through  this  tangled 
wood.  When  half  way  thirteen  old  bull  elk  jumped 
to  their  feet  and  broke  through  the  timber.  We  could 
see  only  a  forest  of  horns.  Among  them  some  fine 
antlers.  It  was  late  in  the  day  and  as  we  were  not 
able  to  get  a  shot  at  first  sight  we  did  not  follow  and 
left  them  for  some  future  time. 

It  was  a  band  of  outlaws  that  had  been  driven  out 
from  several  herds  and  formed  a  herd  of  their  own  to 
drift  along  the  rocks  and  trees  with  no  particular  aim 
in  life  and  without  courage  to  stand  their  ground  in 
contests  with  younger  bulls,  among  the  cows  and 
calves. 


HUNTING  BIG  GAME  WITH  A  PACK  TRAIN. 

Early  in  September,  1879,  General  Crook  invited 
Chief  Quartermaster  M.  I.  Ludington,  who,  during 
the  Spanish  war,  was  quartermaster  general,  (since 
retired).  Congressman  Thornberg  from  Tennessee, 
Webb  C.  Hayes,  Captain  John  G.  Bourke  and  myself, 
to  join  him  on  a  hunting  trip  to  Battle  Creek  moun- 
tains and  Grand  Encampment,  Wyoming,  fifty  miles 
south  of  old  Fort  Fred  Steele. 

Thomas  Moore,  chief  packmaster,  with  his  assist- 
ants and  seventy-five  sleek  roached  and  shaved-tail 
mules,  had  preceded  us.  On  the  arrival  of  the  hunt- 
ing party  at  Fort  Steele,  by  Union  Pacific  train,  we  left 
by  ambulance  and  saddle  mules  for  the  northeast 
slope  of  a  mountain  in  the  Sierra  Madre  range,  and 


,    Hunting  with  a  Pack  Train  115 

camped  at  a  fine  spring  at  the  edge  of  the  pines  with 
plenty  of  wood,  water  and  grass,  the  packer's  delight. 

The  hunting  ground  was  in  a  belt  of  dense  pine  tim- 
ber grown  up  vnt\\  thick  underbrush,  and  an  occa- 
sional spot  of  windfalls  and  fallen  trees,  through 
which  it  was  next  to  impossible  to  travel  on  mules. 
The  only  semblance  of  trails  were  those  made  by  game. 
The  hunters  prospected  nearly  two  days  before  getting 
the  lay  of  the  country,  occasionally  con:ing  onto  scat- 
tering elk  or  deer.  The  game  was  not  wild,  but  the 
forest  of  trees  was  so  dense  and  the  standing  pines  so 
thick  it  required  the  greatest  caution  to  get  a  shot. 
A  section  of  the  country  through  which  we  rode  was 
a  grove  of  quaking  asp  trees  that  extended  north  to 
the  open  prairie.  A  recent  fire  had  left  the  trunks 
of  the  trees  standing,  but  all  the  underbrush  was 
burned  away.  On  leaving  camp  the  hunters  separated 
and  went  in  any  direction  they  chose.  Our  camp  was 
within  a  few  miles  of  the  crossing  of  the  main  divide 
of  the  Rocky  mountains.  Before  reaching  this  we 
crossed  Cow  and  Calf  creeks  running  into  the  Platte 
river.  Immediately  over  the  divide  was  Battle  lake 
on  the  western  slope,  and  the  mountain  dropped  oflf 
so  abruptly  that  the  top  of  the  divide  was  within  rifle 
shot  of  the  lake. 

We  hunted  around  Cow  creek  and  Calf  creek  and 
found  trails  of  herds  of  elk  and  deer,  but  so  thick 
were  the  trees  and  underbrush,  that  we  could  not  travel 
fast  enough  to  come  up  to  the  game.  Occasionally  a 
hunter  would  come  onto  a  herd  of  a  hundred  or  more 
elk,  or  a  band  of  black  tail  deer,  and  would  get  one 
or  two  shots  before  they  disappeared  in  the  timber. 
When  we  reached  the  burnt  quaking  asp  opening  we 


116  Hunting  with  a  Pack  Train 

found  antelope  all  around  us  and  they  were  very  tame. 
Antelope  very  seldom  go  into  woods  or  brush,  or 
among-  trees,  but  they  were  here  in  abundance  and 
could  be  found  at  any  time,  so  we  decided  not  to  dis- 
turb them  until  the  day  before  we  started  for  the 
railroad  and  then  kill  all  we  wanted  in  a  few  hours. 
Blue  grouse  were  plentiful.  We  decided  also  to  not 
alarm  the  bigger  game  by  shooting  at  them  until  on  the 
last  day.  Every  day  the  hunters  were  out  they  killed 
elk  or  deer.  If  near  camp  the  hunter  would  dress  his 
game,  leave  it  and  go  into  camp  and  have  a  packer  lead 
out  two  or  three  mules  and  pack  it  in.  At  times  it 
was  killed  too  far  to  bring  it  in  the  same  day.  In 
that  case  the  hunter  would  dress  the  elk  or  deer,  turn 
it  back  up,  tie  a  handkerchief  to  a  stick  and  stick 
it  in  the  ground  or  lay  it  on  the  animal  and  the  flutter- 
ing of  the  flag  would  keep  the  wolves  and  coyotes  away. 
One  day  Tucker,  our  guide,  came  in  at  noon  and  re- 
ported a  band  of  a  hundred  or  more  elk  less  than  two 
miles  from  camp,  lying  down  on  a  bench  on  the  moun- 
tainside, among  them  being  a  bull  with  a  handsome  set 
of  antlers.  I  joined  him  and  we  set  out  at  once.  When 
within  a  few  hundred  yards  of  the  band,  Tucker  in  the 
lead,  we  approached  cautiously  to  within  reasonable 
shooting  distance.  They  were  all  lying  down  except 
the  bull  with  the  fine  horns.  He  had  moved  to  the  op- 
posite side  of  the  herd,  and  stood  quartering  with  his 
tail  toward  us,  not  an  easy  shot  to  make  sure  of  bring- 
ing him  down  at  first  fire.  There  was  no  time  to  be 
lost,  however,  and  at  a  hundred  yards  I  brought  him 
down.  In  an  instant  the  entire  band  were  up  and  into 
the  brush  and  timber  and  scurrying  away,  with  the 
exception  of  one  calf  that  made  no  move  to  join  the 


Hunting  with  a  Pack  Train  117 

others,  and  stood  broad  side.  Tucker  dropped  him  in 
his  tracks.  With  that  a  cow  dehberately  stepped  out 
into  the  opening  and  stood  over  the  calf  in  a  defiant 
attitude.  I  accepted  the  challenge  and  a  shot  behind 
the  shoulder  laid  her  beside  the  calf.  This  little  ex- 
citement diverted  our  attention  from  the  bull  for  the 
moment  and  when  we  approached  the  spot  the  bull 
had  disappeared  entirely.  After  dressing  the  cow  and 
calf,  we  took  up  the  trail  and  followed  the  wounded 
bull  for  an  hour  but  lost  him.  Here  we  ran  onto  Gen- 
eral Crook,  who  had  just  come  up  from  a  canyon  to 
see  what  the  shooting  was  about,  and  here  Tucker  left 
us  to  go  to  camp  for  a  pack  mule  and  bring  the  game 
in  before  dark. 

The  General  and  I  sauntered  along  leisurely  to- 
wards camp.  He  had  been  out  since  morning  and  dur- 
ing the  whole  day  had  not  seen  any  big  game,  al- 
though the  woods  were  full  of  trails.  Suddenly  a  bull 
elk  which  was  lying  down  near  a  trickling  stream, 
jumped  up  and  stood  looking  at  us,  showing  a  full 
front,  only  one  hundred  yards  away.  The  General 
was  carrying  his  telescope  rifle  and  resting  the  gun  on 
the  side  of  a  tree,  took  deliberate  aim  at  the  spot  just 
above  where  the  hair  curls  on  his  breast — hunters  call 
it  the  "sticking  place."  The  bullet  went  straight  to  the 
mark  and  we  saw  blood  spurt  from  the  wound.  The 
elk  did  not  fall  but  showed  a  violent  shock  when  he 
was  hit.  So  sure  was  the  General  that  it  was  a  fatal 
wound  he  did  not  fire  again.  The  bull  went  by  us 
within  fifty  yards  and  disappeared  in  the  woods.  Tak- 
ing up  his  trail  we  followed  it  by  blood  left  on  the 
bushes  and  soon  found  him  lying  dead  across  the 
trail.    When  we  dressed  him  we  found  the  bullet  had 


118  Hunting  with  a  Pack  Train 

gone  clean  through  his  heart  and,  by  estimating  the 
distance  from  where  he  stood  when  shot,  he  had  trav- 
elled fully  five  hundred  yards  afterwards.  It  was  the 
rutting  season  and  the  habits  of  this  game  were  er- 
ratic. After  three  days  in  camp,  at  the  spring 
near  the  edge  of  the  timber.  General  Ludington, 
General  Crook,  Bourke,  Hayes  and  myself,  with  a 
dozen  pack  and  saddle  mules,  packers  and  two  soldiers, 
started  for  Battle  Creek  lake,  twelve  miles  distant,  the 
pack  mules  carrying  our  camp  equipment.  Before 
reaching  the  lake  one  of  the  hunters  shot  a  four  months' 
old  elk  calf  dressed  it  and  left  it  hanging  on  the  limb 
of  a  tree  to  carry  with  us  on  our  return  to  permanent 
camp.  Arriving  at  the  lake,  the  party  caught  enough 
trout  before  supper  for  the  dozen  men. 

While  making  camp,  a  lone  mountain  sheep  came 
down  from  an  almost  perpendicular  gorge  of  rocks,  to 
the  lake  to  drink.  He  stood  looking  at  us  over  a  thou- 
sand yards  away,  then  put  his  nose  to  the  water  and 
satisfying  his  thirst  climbed  back  up  the  rocks,  and  was 
in  plain  sight  for  nearly  a  mile.  When  evening  came, 
the  whistling  of  bull  elk  was  heard.  All  through  the 
night  we  heard  the  bawling  of  a  cow  elk,  evidently  the 
mother  of  the  calf  we  killed  on  our  way  over. 

The  lake  covered  a  space  of  about  fifteen  acres  and 
lay  on  top  or  immediately  over  the  Continental  Divide. 
The  water  was  clear  and  blue  and  said  to  be  nearly  two 
hundred  feet  deep.  Through  the  almost  transparent 
water  hundreds  of  trout  could  be  seen.  At  the  casting 
of  a  bait  dozens  of  the  little  speckled  beauties  would 
come  to  the  surface  with  open  mouths.  Pebbles  could 
be  seen  on  the  bottom  in  water  twenty  feet  deep.  The 
south  shore  sloped  gradually  up  fully  three-quarters 


Hunting  with  a  Pack  Train  119 

of  a  mile  and  was  of  bare,  broken  and  scraggy  rocks. 
From  the  shore  of  the  lake  above,  half  the  distance  up, 
the  timber  did  not  grow  and  it  was  thought  by  our 
party  that  we  had  crossed  the  range  at  about  ten 
thousand  feet  above  sea  level,  and  that  the  bare  rock 
was  above  timber  line — eleven  thousand  feet,  above 
which  point  no  vegetation  grows.  It  appears  that  all 
elevations  above  timber  line  are  composed  principally 
of  rock.  From  the  timber  line  the  mountains  broke 
away  to  the  north  on  either  side  of  the  lake  and  formed 
a  deep  canyon  through  which  the  stream  from  the  lake 
flowed  finding  its  way  to  the  Pacific  ocean.  There  was 
a  foot  of  snow  on  the  ground  ?nd  the  forest  of  pyramid 
shaped  tall  fir  trees  on  all  sides  of  us  was  beautiful 
in  its  garb  of  snow  covered  verdure. 

Near  the  outlet  of  the  lake  stood  a  small  log  cabin, 
built  the  season  before  by  Dr.  Graff  of  Omaha,  who 
represented  some  Omaha  parties  prospecting  the 
mountains  for  minerals.  On  the  door  was  inscribed 
in  pencil  the  names  of  the  parties  who  had  visited  the 
lake,  together  with  a  record  of  the  trout  they  had 
caught,  one  item  of  which  was  a  catch  of  near  fourteen 
hundred. 

The  next  morning  the  hunters  started  in  all  direc- 
tions for  big  game  and  the  score  of  deer  and  elk  made 
by  each  one  was  entirely  satisfactory.  Captain 
Bourke  took  very  little  interest  in  hunting  and  re- 
mained at  the  lake  to  try  his  luck  fishing. 

When  the  hunters  returned  to  the  lake  they  found 
Captain  Bourke  up  in  a  quaking  asp  tree  on  the  bank. 
Bourke  took  no  part  in  the  hunting,  and  to  while 
away  the  time  in  camp  he  borrowed  a  fish  hook  and  a 


120  Hunting  with  a  Pack  Train 

piece  of  string  from  one  of  the  packers  and  cut  an  alder 
bush  pole  to  try  his  hand  catching  trout.  The  matter 
of  a  few  trees  behind  the  place  he  selected  to  fish 
from,  made  no  difference  to  him,  the  result  being  that 
he  landed  his  trout,  hook  and  line  in  the  tree  nearly 
every  time  he  pulled  a  fish  out.  When  we  came  to 
camp  he  was  unravelling  his  day's  work. 

The  following  day,  to  rest  from  four  days'  hard 
work,  we  all  remained  in  camp  and,  as  the  inclination 
would  strike  us,  would  fish  for  trout.  When  a  trout 
fly  was  cast  in  the  water,  a  dozen  or  more  open  mouths 
would  come  for  it.  Nothing  could  exceed  their  eager- 
ness to  take  anything  thrown  in  the  water.  During 
the  three  days  the  catch  of  the  entire  party 
exceeded  thirteen  hundred  trout,  the  average 
weight  of  which  did  not  exceed  two  and  one- 
half  ounces,  and  in  the  catch  there  was  not  a  fish  that 
weighed  four  ounces.  When  we  left  for  our  perma- 
ment  camp  on  the  edge  of  the  woods  we  packed  the 
trout  in  two  grain  bags.  Along  the  trail  a  small  open- 
ing in  one  bag  would  let  them  slip  out  one  at  a  time, 
and  by  the  time  we  arrived  nearly  one-half  the  con- 
tents of  the  bag  were  gone. 

On  our  way  back  Webb  Hayes  killed  his  first  elk 
on  Cow  creek — a  bull  with  fine  horns. 
Each  of  the  hunters  made  his  kill,  but  the  General 
as  usual  led  them  all  in  numbers.  We  made  one  day's 
hunt  in  the  burnt  woods  for  antelope  and  with  good 
success,  the  total  result  of  the  hunt  being  several  elk,  a 
few  deer  and  a  dozen  antelopes.  The  great  rivalry  was 
in  shooting  the  heads  off  blue  grouse.  In  this  I  tied 
the  General.  The  trout  caught  by  the  party  were  all 
eaten  before  we  left  the  camp  at  the  spring.     Two 


Hunting  with  a  Pack  Train  121 

days  carried  us  back  to  Fort  Fred  Steel,  where  we 
took  the  train  for  Omaha,  leaving  Mr.  Moore  and  the 
packers  to  take  the  packs  and  wagons  overland  back 
to  Fort  Russell.  The  scene  of  our  then  wild  hunting 
is  near  the  present  site  of  the  great  copper  mine  and 
town  of  Grand  Encampment.  The  country  is  now  well 
populated  and  filled  with  prospectors. 


Buffaloes  in  their  wild  state  are  practically  extinct. 
Since  their  disappearance  the  grazing  grounds  were 
occupied  by  cattle  and  horses  and  on  these  the  bears 
and  wolves  subsisted.  Now  that  the  ranges  are  re- 
duced, the  number  of  cattle  and  horses  are  also  greatly 
lessened,  and  the  wild  animals  have  migrated  to  Jack- 
son's Hole,  the  Tetons  and  Wind  river  ranges.  There 
are  still  great  number  of  elk  in  remote  regions  where 
the  average  hunter  does  not  visit.  Black  tail  or  mule 
deer  will  be  partly  protected  by  the  government  forest 
rangers,  who  are  also  appointed  in  some  instances,  as 
state  game  wardens. 

The  timid  antelope  is  being  pushed  beyond  the  pale 
of  civilization  and  will  find  safety  in  their  increased 
wildness. 

That  prince  of  all  Rocky  mountain  game,  the  moun- 
tain sheep,  has  been  driven  from  his  old  haunts  near 
the  railroads  and  has  taken  refuge  in  the  interior  and  in 
the  higher  mountain  ranges  of  the  Tetons  and  Wind 
river.  The  hunters  of  large  game  of  to-day  and  of 
the  future  in  the  Rocky  mountains,  who  may  read  the 
incidents  herein  related,  all  of  which  occurred  about 
a  quarter  of  a  century  ago,  cannot  help  but  realize  the 


122  Hunting  with  a  Pack  Train 

wonderful  change  in  the  abundance  of  game  then  and 
at  the  present  time. 


THE  SCOUT. 

In  January  1901,  at  the  request  of  John  T.  Bell, 
then  editor  and  proprietor  of  the  Omaha  Mercury, 
I  contributed  an  article  giving  some  of  the  char- 
acteristics of  Baptiste  Gamier,  better  known  as 
Little  Bat,  the  scout.  This  article  when  published 
was  preluded  by  Mr.  Bell.  It  also  contained  some 
illustrations  that  cannot  be  here  included,  hence  it 
is  a  trifle  revamped.  The  changes  are  by  permis- 
sion of  Mr.  Bell. 

**The  late  General  George  Crook  was  one  of  the 
most  distinguished  of  the  many  officers  who  served 
quietly  enduring  hardships  of  the  most  appalling 
character,  suffering  great  privations  and  in  almost 
constant  danger.  The  American  people  have  no 
adequate  idea  of  the  patient  endurance,  the  heroism, 
the  suffering  which  characterized  life  on  the  plains 
during  an  active  campaign  and  when  the  story  is 
put  in  print — if  that  day  ever  arrives — ^by  a  gifted 
penman,  with  a  soul  fired  by  a  proper  conception  of 
his  theme,  the  hearts  of  men  and  women  will  be 
stirred  to  the  utmost — their  love  for  and  pride  in  the 
American  army  will  be  increased. 

"In  his  latest  Indian  campaigns — 1875  and  1876 — 
General  Crook  had  in  his  employ  three  noted  scouts 
— Buffalo  Bill,  Frank  Grouard  and  Baptiste  Gar- 
nier.  The  latter  known  from  boyhood  as  "Little 
Bat"  was  recently  killed  at  Crawford,  this  state,  by 


The  Scout  123 

a  saloon  keeper.  From  the  date  of  his  taking  com- 
mand General  Crook  included  in  his  list  of  close 
personal  friends  Mr.  John  S.  Collins  of  this  city  and 
during  a  period  of  many  years  they  were  frequently 
together  in  Wyoming  and  Western  Nebraska  in  pur- 
suit of  big  game.  At  various  times  the  following 
well  known  men  were  included  in  these  parties,  A. 
E.  Touzalin,  Webb  Hayes,  Major  Thornburg, 
Major  T.  H.  Stanton,  Ex-Governor  Romualdo  Pacheco 
of  California,  Major  J.  H.  Lord  and  others.  Concern- 
ing Gamier  Mr.  Collins  told  this  story ; 

LITTLE   BAT,   THE   SCOUT. 

"In  the  killing  of  Baptiste  Garnier,  better  known 
throughout  the  west  as  Little  Bat,  the  country 
loses  a  character  not  only  peculiar  in  habit  and 
method  but  in  many  ways  useful  to  the  wild  western 
country,  and  one  that  may  never  again  be  seen. 
His  antecedents  are  unknown  to  me,  but  he  was  a 
quarter-blood  Sioux  Indian  raised  on  the  Laramie 
river.  When  a  mere  boy  some  thirty  years  ago  he 
became  famous  as  a  stock  tender,  partly  because  of 
perseverence  and  knowledge  of  cattle  and  horses, 
but  chiefly  for  his  wonderful  gift  of 

TRAILING. 

"Never  was  an  Indian  born  who  could  with  more 
certainty  follow  the  trail  of  a  lost  animal  with  the 
assurance  of  finding  it.  In  1875  Bat's  home  was 
on  the  Hunton  and  Bullock  ranch  near  old  Fort 
Laramie.  When  General  Crook  organized  the  1876 
campaign  against  the  Sioux,  Frank  Grouard  and 
Little     Bat     were     selected  as  principal  guides  and 


124  The  Scout 

couriers.  At  the  end  of  that  war  General  Crook 
filed  with  the  War  Department  at  Washington  a  rec- 
ommendation that  both  Grouard  and  Bat,  on  ac- 
count of  their  valuable  services,  had  earned  a  life 
position  and  that  they  be  employed  by  the  govern- 
ment as  scouts  to  the  end  of  their  lives,  Grouard  at 
$150  a  month  and  Little  Bat  at  $100.  Frank 
Grouard  now  residing  near  Pine  Ridge  Agency, 
Neb.,  resigned  his  position  at  old  Fort  McKinney 
near  Sheridan,  it  is  said  through  some  misunder- 
standing with  the  then  commanding  officer,  about 
four  years  ago.  Little  Bat  remained  at  Fort  Robin- 
son and  at  the  time  of  his  death  was  in  the  employ 
of  the  government. 

"During  the  year  1878  and  later,  Bat  accompanied 
General  Marcy,  father-in-law  of  General  McQellan, 
Seward  Webb  and  Dr.  Draper,  on  their  many  hunts 
for  large  game  in  the  Rocky  mountains.  General 
George  Crook  knowing  of  Bat's  wonderful  reputation 
as  hunter,  trailer  and  rifle  shot,  first  took  him  with 
us  into  Salt  creek  country  for  bear  (Salt  creek  ly- 
ing north  of  Casper,  Wyo.)  and  so  skillful  did  he 
prove,  never  failing,  no  matter  what  the  character  of 
the  country  was,  to  come  onto  the  game  and  secure 
it — that  the  General  afterwards  did  not  think  his 
hunting  party  complete  without  Little  Bat.  He  and 
General  Crook  killed  the  last  (three)  mountain  sheep 
in  the  Salt  creek  country,  and  Bat  the  last  elk,  a 
magnificent  bull  with  fine  antlers. 

THE    WOUNDED     KNEE    FIGHT. 

''When  General  Brooke  came  to  command  the  De- 
partment of  the  Platte,  Bat  at  once  became  a  favor- 


The  Scout  125 

ite  of  that  officer  and  accompanied  him  in  the  Pine 
Ridge  war  of  1890.  When  Forsyth,  in  command  of 
troops  escorted  Big  Foot  and  his  band  on  the 
Wounded  Knee,  halted  to  listen  to  the  parley  of  the 
Indians,  it  was  Little  Bat  who  warned  Forsyth  that 
the  halt  was  asked  for  only  to  begin  trouble.  A 
medicine  man 

THREW    DIRT    IN    THE    AIR 

which  was  taken  as  a  signal  for  beginning  and  in  an 
instant  the  fight  was  on.  During  the  excitement  Bat 
had  left  his  tent  and  ran  with  the  Indians,  "when 
he  turned  toward  the  tent  he  had  been  occupying  he 
saw  this  same  medicine  man  standing  at  the  opening 
with  one  of  his  own  rifles  in  hand  and  keeping  it 
hot  as  he  joined  in  firing  on  the  soldiers.  In  a  few 
seconds  this  Indian  fell  into  the  tent  which  was  after- 
wards set  on  fire  and  Bat  found  his  rifle  under  the 
medicine  man's  dead  body  with  the  stock  partly 
burned.  This  rifle  had  been  presented  to  Bat  by 
General  Edward  Hatch,  formerly  in  command  of 
Fort  Robinson,  and  was  used  by  him  in  all  his  hunting 
trips.  Although  it  is  a  mooted  question  as  to  the 
wisdom  of 

WIPING  OUT   BIG   foot's   BAND 

western  people  do  not  agree,  neither  do  they  furnish 
the  history  that  may  or  may  not  have  justified  the 
killing. 

"In  recent  years  Bat  was  the  mainstay  of  Seward 
Webb  and  party  on  a  hunt  to  Jackson's  Hole.  In 
the  fall  of  1899  B^t's  record  for  bear  killed  by  him- 
self alone  was  eighty-three  and  as  he  later  recalled 
incidents  of  his  score,  in  the  tent  of  A.  S.  Patrick  and 


126  The  Scout 

myself,  on  one  of  our  private  hunts  for  big  game  on 
Salt  creek,  he  remarked,  "Now  the  bear  all  left  this 
country,  and  gone  to  Jackson's  Hole,  maybe  I  wont 
get  the  other  seventeen,"  to  make  a  hundred. 

"Frank  Grouard  in  his  life  speaks  of  Bat  as 
the  most  wonderful  hunter  and  the  best  game  shot  he 
ever  knew — capable  of  running  deer  down  on  foot 
and  capturing  them  with  a  rope  without  firing  a  gun. 
On  one  occasion,  while  at  Casper  preparing  for  a 
start  to  the  Sand  Hills  with  General  Brooke,  looking 
up  towards  the  Casper  mountains,  I  remarked,  'Bat 
are  there  any  elk  left  in  Casper  mountains?''  to  which 
he  replied,  *I  guess  not.     I  was  up  there  while  ago. 

I   SAW   SEVENTEEN   AND  KILLED  "eM." 

"I  have  been  out  with  General  Crook  and  Bat  when 
a  trail  would  be  taken  up  by  Bat  on  the  baked  soil 
of  the  Bad  Lands,  so  hard  that  the  soft  foot  of  a 
bear  would  make  no  impression  at  all  and  yet  the 
scout  would  follow  a  bear's  trail  over  that  character 
of  country  for  many  miles,  his  only  clue  being  the 
occasional  turning  over  of  a  bit  of  dirt  or  pebble, 
perhaps  no  bigger  than  a  nickle,  this  bit  showing  up 
just  a  trifle  darker  in  color  on  what  had  been  the 
under  side  than  the  white  surface  all  around  it. 

"On  one  occasion  when  out  with  Bat  we  start- 
ed a  deer.  A  shot  broke  its  hind  leg.  A  deer  with  a 
broken  leg  seems  to  get  out  of  a  hunter's  way  about 
as  fast  as  if  not  crippled.  We  were  on  horseback  and 
followed  it  two  or  three  miles,  then  struck  a 
rough  piece  of  country  where  it  was  slow  traveling. 
Bat,  who  was  in  my  lead,  saw  we  were  losing  ground, 
and  left    his    horse — ^beckoning    to    me    to    bring  it 


The  Scout  127 

along — and  set  off  on  foot  after  the  deer,  following 
it  up  a  deep  coolie  and  across  a  grassy  divide  and 
into  another  coolie  two  or  three  miles  farther  on,  un- 
til the  deer  actually  fell  exhausted.  When  I  came 
up  an  hour  later  with  the  horses,  there  sat  Bat  on  a 
bank  rolling  a  cigarette,  ten  feet  away  from  where 
the  panting  deer  was.  There's  your  game,  why 
don't  you  shoot  it?'  he  said.  But  there  was  no  neces- 
sity for  shooting  a  deer  that  was  only  ten  feet  away, 
when  I  could  lead  him  by  the  ears  down  the  'hill  and 
kill  him  in  a  more  sportsmanlike  manner. 

PUTTING  UP  A  BLUFF. 

"At  one  time  I  shot  and  disabled  a  bear 
which  was  rushing  hot  foot  for  Bat,  only  a 
few  feet  distant.  I  soon  killed  the  bear,  and 
when  I  afterward  remarked,  'Bat,  I  think  I 
saved  your  Hfe  that  time,'  the  scout  replied,  'Oh  that 
bear  was  just  putting  up  a  big  bluff.'  On  one  oc- 
casion General  Crook  and  Bat  killed  a  bear  in  a  hole 
in  a  cut  bank  twenty  feet  deep.  Then  it  was  a  prob- 
lem as  to  how  the  skin  of  the  game  was  to  be  saved, 
which  problem  the  General  solved  by  going  half  a 
mile  to  the  hills  and  cutting  down  and  carrying  on 
his  shoulder  a  young  pine  tree  with  an  abundance  of 
branches.  Of  this  he  made  a  sort  of  a  ladder  by 
which  the  two  descended  to  the  dead  bear.  Then 
they  built  a  fire  of  sage  brush  at  the  bottom  of  the 
hole  which  afforded  light  for  their  purpose  and  when 
they  had  taken  the  skin  off  they  tied  one  end  of  a 
stout  lariat  to  it  and  hitched  the  other  end  to  the  sad- 
dle of  their  riding  mule  which  was  above  them,  and 
thus  hauled  up  the  heavy  pelt. 


128  The  Scout 

"If  a  few  short-comings  in  business  matters  were 
charged  to  Bat  they  might  be  attributed  to  his  not 
fully  understanding  them,  as  he  could  neither  read 
nor  write  and  his  contact  with  men  of  affairs  was,  of 
course,  limited.  He  was  thoroughly  honest.  You 
could  trust  him  with  your  property  and  rely  on  his 
promises.  What  he  pretended  to  know,  he  knew, 
and  his  knowledge  need  not  be  questioned.  Ask 
Bat,  'Can  we  do  it,'  and  if  he  said  'Yes,'  then  leave 
it  to  his  hands  for  he  was  sure  to  accomplish  it. 

EYES    LIKE    A    CAT. 

"One  strong  feature  in  his  character  stood  out 
clean  cut  above  all  others — ^his  wonderful  bump  of 
locality.  Term  it  woodcraft,  landcraft,  or  what  you 
will,  it  applied  the  same.  Land  him  blind-folded  in 
a  new  country  and  he  would  go  straight  to  his 
camp  in  day  or  night  as  the  needle  points  to  the 
noith.  In  November,  1882,  General  Crook  and  his 
hunting  party,  accompanied  by  Bat,  had  been  in  camp 
on  Salt  creek  for  several  days.  Not  finding  large 
game  plentiful  it  was  suggested  that  we  move  over  on 
the  head  of  the  Dry  Cheyenne.  Bat  instructed  the 
men  in  charge  of  the  teams  to  'follow  a  blind  game 
trail  over  a  strip  of  Bad  Lands  to  a  deep  washout, 
cross,  then  keep  along  the  divide  to  the  head  of  a 
dry  creek,  follow  it  down  to  a  point  of  rocks,  then 
strike  for  a  lone  pine  tree  on  the  side  of  a  high  steep 
bluff,  where  we  will  camp.'  He  and  the  General 
cut  across  the  country  to  look  for  bear.  At  dark 
they  brought  up  at  the  spring  where  they  expected 
to  find  the  teams  in  camp,  Mr.  Hayes  and  myself 
with     two     Indians  having  already  arrived.     It  was 


The  Scout  129 

then  dark  and  no  sound  or  sight  of  the  teams.  'Do 
you  think  it  possible  for  them  to  reach  this  camp  to- 
night?' asked  the  General.  'You  bet  them  drivers 
they  lost  their  heads.  I  go  find  them  and  fetch  them 
in  all  right,  maybe  near  daylight'  responded  Little 
Bat.  The  General  and  party  were  toasting  their, 
shins  over  a  huge  fire  of  a  standing  pine  tree  when, 
about  midnight  we  heard  the  refined  and  gentle 
voice  of  the  government  mule  skinners.  In  a  short 
time,  led  by  Bat,  the  entire  outfit  was  in  camp  and 
the  wagon  boss,  as  he  slid  the  harness  off  the  last 
mule,  remarked.  That  fellow  Bat  got  eyes  like  a  cat, 
see  as  well  at  night  as  in  daylight.' 

ROPING   A   DEER. 

"When  we  were  in  camp  on  the  dry  fork  of  the 
Cheyenne,  General  Hatch  wounded  a  black  tail  deer 
carrying  enormous  horns.  He  and  Bat  followed  him 
a  long  time  drifting  towards  camp.  Bat  could  throw 
a  rope  equal  to  a  cowboy.  When  the  deer  was  about 
exhausted,  he  threw  his  rope  over  one  horn  and 
after  a  little  bucking  the  deer  quieted  down  and  drove 
fairly  well  towards  camp.  It  was  slow  traveling  and 
the  deer  soon  got  his  second  wind.  By  a  dexterous 
use  of  the  rope,  Bat  threw  him  to  the  ground.  Here 
he  sulked  and  refused  to  get  up  for  some  time.  The 
hunters  worried  him  until  he  jumped  to  his  feet  and 
made  a  frantic  dash  for  his  liberty.  Bat  knew  the 
possibility  of  the  deer  making  a  charge  and  warned 
General  Hatch  to  be  on  his  guard.  When  on  his  feet 
again  they  tried  to  start  him  towards  camp,  but  he 
reared  and  plunged  and  refused  to  be  driven. 

''Then  he  braced  himself  with  all  four  legs  and  put 


130  The  Scout 

his  nose  to  the  ground.  Bat  knew  what  was  coming 
and  called  to  the  General  *shoot  quick  or  he  will 
charge  my  horse.'  'Stay  with  him,'  said  the  Gen- 
eral, who  was  not  slow  in  getting  his  work  in.  At  the 
crack  of  his  rifle,  the  deer  reared  on  his  hind  legs, 
and  fell  backwards  dead.  When  they  rode  into 
camp  with  the  handsome  buck  strapped  on  the  horse 
ridden  by  the  General's  orderly,  Bat  congratulated 
himself  on  saving  his  rope,  for  to  have  it  carried 
away  by  a  deer  would  have  been  an  everlasting  dis- 
grace. 

RECOVERED  THEIR  HORSES. 

**Back  in  '75'  the  country  around  Fort  Laramie  fair- 
ly bristled  with  hostile  Indians.  Scarcely  a  week  passed 
that  ranchmen,  herders  and  wood  choppers  were  not 
alarmed  by  small  war  parties  raiding  the  stock  herds. 
It  was  the  custom  of  ranchmen  along  the  Laramie  river 
to  turn  their  horses  out  in  charge  of  a  herder  during 
the  day  and  at  night  corral  them  in  a  pen  built  of 
logs,  the  gates  being  secured  by  heavy  chains  and  pad- 
locks. The  herders  always  carried  rifle  and  field  glass 
and  with  the  latter  occasionally  spied  an  Indian  lying 
on  top  of  a  bluff  scanning  the  prospects  for  getting 
away  with  the  bunch  of  horses  in  charge  of  the  herd- 
er. The  camp  to  which  the  Indian  belonged  might 
be  located  a  dozen  miles  on  the  north  side  of  the 
Platte  river.  At  night  the  war  party  would  visit  the 
corrals  and  if,  through  the  carelessness  of  the  men 
the  gates  were  not  securely  locked,  the  entire  bunch 
of  horses  would  be  taken  out  within  a  rod  of  where 
the  men  were  sleeping,  and  once  out  of  the  corral 
with  the  stock  it  was  useless  to  follow  the  Indians  in 
the   dark.     The   next  morning  the   ranchmen   would 


The  Scout  131 

follow  the  trial  as  far  as  the  crossing  of  the  Platte  and 
then  abandon  it  through  fear  that  the  Indians  might 
be  reinforced.  One  of  the  party  would  then  rush  into 
the  military  post  and  ask  the  commanding  officer  to 
send  out  a  detachment  of  troops.  The  request  was 
usually  promptly  complied  with,  but  following  a  cold 
trail  a  day  or  more  old  amounted  to  nothing  more 
than  a  long,  tedious  ride. 

"One  night  in  the  month  of  February 

A  WAR  PARTY 

raided  the  ranch  of  Louis  Reshaw,  a  halfbreed,  nine 
miles  up  the  river,  and  ran  off  his  stock.  Louis,  with 
his  brother,  Pete,  accompanied  by  the  famous  half- 
breed  scout  and  hunter.  Little  Bat,  skirmished 
around  among  their  neighbors,  borrowed  horses  and 
started  on  the  trail.  A  nine  mile  ride  brought  them 
to  the  Platte.  The  river  was  frozen  over.  The  In- 
dians had  thrown  sand  on  the  ice  to  facilitate  cross- 
ing the  stock.  One  of  the  stolen  ponies  had  given 
out  and  was  abandoned  at  the  crossing.  The  half- 
breeds  were  hot  on  the  trail,  leading  in  the  direction 
of  the  Indian  agency.  From  the  ponies'  tracks  it  was 
evident  that  but  three  Indians  were  in  the  party.  The 
stolen  herd  numbered  five  ponies,  their  total  value 
less  than  $ioo,  being  the  stock  left  the  owners  after 
two  or  three  recent  visits  made  by  the  red  men. 

"Crossing  the  river  the  trail  led  over  rocky  bluffs  and 
on  through  the  canyon  where  Colonel  Babbit,  later  on, 
erected  his  smelting  works,  in  the  now  well  known 
copper  and  silver  district.  Late  in  the  afternoon  the 
trail  showed  that  the  Indians  were  traveling  slowly 
and     would     soon     camp.       Little     Bat   knew  the 


132  The  Scout 

country  well  and  he  knew  the  water  hole  not  far 
ahead.  When  the  Indians  want  to  camp  and  have  fears 
that  they  are  being  pursued^  they  do  not  stop  on 
reaching  water  but  camp  away  from  it.  The 
halfbreeds  knew  their  custom  and  laid  plans  to  sur- 
prise them.  The  quick  eye  of  Little  Bat  soon  dis- 
covered smoke  curling  away  from  the  Indians'  tepee, 
a  rude  affair  composed  of  a  few  lodge  poles  covered 
with  cotton  ticking,  evidence  enough  that  the  Indians 
belonged  at  or  near  the  agency.  The  halfbreeds  held 
a  council  and  then  divided  and  approached  the  camp 
cautiously. 

ONE  OF  THE  INDIANS 

was  found  seated  on  a  rocky  point  commanding  the 
best  view  of  all  approaches  looking  out,  a  second 
was  gathering  wood  near  the  tepee,  and  the  third  was 
driving  the  horses  down  the  ravine  to  water. 

"The  war  party  and  their  pursuers  were  equal  in 
numbers  and  evenly  matched  and  no  time  was  lost 
in  deciding  the  plan  of  action.  Louis  would  take 
care  of  the  lookout,  Pete  would  have  an  eye  on  the 
fellow  gathering  wood,  and  Little  Bat  said,  "you 
bet  I  get  the  horses." 

"Crawling  up  within  lOO  yards  of  the  lookout 
Louis  crouched  behind  a  rock  and  waited  for  Pete 
to  get  in  position.  The  lookout  was  the  only  Indian 
armed,  the  other  two  having  left  their  rifles  at  the 
tepee.  It  was  agreed  that  no  move  should  be  made 
until  sundown  and  just  as  the  sun  disappeared  be- 
hind a  rocky  bluff  a 

SHOT    WAS    HEARD 

and  the  smoke  curled  away  from  behind  the  rock 
where  Louis  lay.     A  yell  from  the  lookout  and  he 


The  Scout  133 

scrambled  among  the  rocks  to  a  place  of  safety — shot 
in  the  leg.  Pete  took  advantage  of  the  wood  gath- 
erer and  caught  him  *away  from  home.*  At  the 
crack  of  Louis'  rifle  the  wood  chopper  dropped  his 
load  and  scampered  to  a  hiding  place  among  the 
scattering  pines.  Little  Bat,  rifle  in  hand,  made  a 
charge  on  the  herd  but  did  not  shoot  for  fear  of 
scattering  the  horses.  Gathering  up  the  lariat  drop- 
ped by  the  Indian  he  mounted  a  pony  and  at  once 
skurried  down  the  creek  driving  the  entire  band  of 
horses  ahead  of  him. 

"Pete  had,  as  he  expressed  it,  captured  the  camp 
and  fired  the  village  taking  the  only  rifle 
at  the  tepee,  powder  horn,  cap  box, 
lance,  jerked  beef  and  medicine  bag,  (one  of 
which  trophies  Louis  gave  to  the  writer  the  follow- 
ing day)  and  carried  them  to  the  rock  where  Louis 
was  trying  to  get 

A    SECOND    SHOT 

at  the  lockout.  Two  or  three  shots  were  exchanged 
when  the  lookout  called  to  Louis  in  a  friendly  way  in 
Sioux.      'Don't  shoot!     I  know  you:' 

"  *If  you  know  me,  what  in  h 1  you  come  and 

steal  my  horses  for?'   asked  Louis. 

"Pete  said,  'Call  him  up  to  hold  a  council  and  I 
kill  the  d d  Sioux.' 

"Bat  had  gone  on  with  the  herd.  The  lodge  had 
been  burned,  all  the  plunder  taken,  one  Indian  shot 
in  the  leg,  and  the  war  party  left  afoot  in  the  hills. 
It  was  now  dark  and  the  victors  fifteen  miles  from 
home.  Returning  to  their  horses,  Louis  and  Pete 
hurried  on  down  the  valley  to  overtake  Bat,  who  was 


134  The  Scout 

holding  the  herd  waiting  for  them  at  the  mouth  of 
the  canyon.  It  was  near  midnight  when  the  half- 
breeds  reached  their  ranch  with  all  their  own  stock, 
and  five  head  belonging  to  the  Indians. 

"Last  October  the  writer  joined  General  E.  Hatch's 
hunting  party  and  camped  on  the  south  fork  of  the 
Powder  river  in  Wyoming,  and  found  this  same 
Little  Bat  'pegging  down'  a  fresh  bear  skin  he  had 
taken  that  day. 

"On  this  trip  the  writer  took  occasion  to  remind  him 
of  the  incident  related  above.  'Yes,  I  see  that  Injun 
many  times  over  at  agency,  he  lame  yet  where 
we  shot  him  in  leg,'  said  Little  Bat." 


"CRAZY  HORSE"  BONES. 

"Mr.  Collins:— 

"I  want  you  to  help  me  sell  the  bones  of  'Crazy 
Horse.'    They  are  petrified  and  are  very  beautiful. 

"Your  friend, 


The  above  is  the  substance  of  a  letter  in  my  pos- 
session. Crazy  Horse  was  that  troublesome  Cheyenne 
Indian  who  was  more  active  in  the  Sioux  war  of  1876 
than  Sitting  Bull  himself.  When  captured  by  Gen- 
eral Crook  he  was  taken  to  Fort  Robinson,  Nebraska, 
and  confined  in  the  guard  house  there  to  remain  until 
the  Indian  war  was  ended  and  the  United  States  gov- 
ernment decided  what  disposition  would  be  made  of  all 
the  chiefs  and  leading  Indians  who  surrendered  or 
were  captured.  There  were  feverish  days  at  Fort 
Robinson  at  that  time.     There  were  reasons  for  be- 


Crazy  Horse  Bones  135 

lieving  the  Indians  were  organizing  a  force  to  make  an 
attack  on  the  guard  house  and  release  all  Indian  pris- 
oners. Crazy  Horse  attempted  to  pass  the  guard  and 
escape  and  in  the  melee  was  killed  by  a  bayonet.  His 
remains  were  buried  near  the  garrison..  Some  time 
after  the  burial  the  grave  was  robbed  of  its  contents 
which  were  deposited  in  a  remote  place  where  they, 
no  doubt,  rest  at  the  present  day.  This  was  done 
thinking  the  government  would  discover  the  robbing  of 
the  grave  and  offer  a  large  reward  for  the  recovery 
of  the  body. 

No  attention,  however,  was  paid  to  the  desecration 
of  the  grave  and  the  remains  lay  hidden  until  about 
the  time  the  above  letter  was  written.  Then  the  dis- 
covery was  made  that  they  had  turned  to  stone — hence 
the  letter  above  noted.  Later,  I  talked  with  the  party 
who  could  "deliver  the  goods"  and  there  is  no  doubt 
but  they  are  a  remarkable  curiosity.  Anyone  interest- 
ed in  such  gruesome  relics,  by  paying  a  good  price 
could,  even  now,  I  think,  procure  the  petrifaction. 

As  it  was  not  in  my  line  of  business,  I  did  not 
make  an  effort  to  dispose  of  them.  Major  John  G. 
Bourke,  John  Finerty  and  Frank  Grouard,  the  scout, 
have  each  written  a  book  on  the  "  '76"  Indian  war  in- 
cluding a  correct  history  of  Crazy  Horse  and  his  fol- 
lowing. 

I  believe  this  is  the  first  item  ever  published  referring 
to  the  above  facts,  which  shows  the  peculiar  effect  of 
the  climate  of  Wyoming  on  the  dead  as  well  as  on  the 
living. 

In  my  possession  is  the  German  silver  finger  ring 
worn  by  Crazy  Horse  when  he  was  killed. 


VAGABONDING   WITH    A    GENERAL    MANAGER. 

When  William  F.  Fitch  was  general  manager  of 
the  Fremont  &  Elkhorn  railroad,  he  was  personally 
acquainted  with  nearly  every  owner  of  a  steer  or  a 
sheep  along  the  line,  as  well  as  a  hundred  miles  away 
from  it.  He  was  out  on  the  road  for  business  about 
every  week.  The  "cow  men"  and  "sheep  men"  had 
the  run  of  his  private  car,  and  in  return  gave  him  their 
business.  There  were  times,  however,  when  a  little 
less  company  suited  his  taste  better.  When  out  on 
the  road  for  work  he  dressed  in  a  suit  of  corduroys, 
top  boots,  woolen  shirt,  and  a  broad  rimmed  cowboy 
hat  with  a  leather  band  around  it,  and  there  were  few 
finer  looking  men  on  the  line  than  this  kind-hearted 
breezy  general  manager.  During  the  many  years  he 
managed  the  Elkhorn  road,  the  event  that  he  dated 
everything,  that  occurred  "before  and  after,"  was  a 
"cloud  burst"  in  a  sand  draw  out  near  Shawnee 
creek,  that  carried  away  five  hundred  feet  of  an  em- 
bankment which  was  from  ten  to  forty  feet  high,  and 
the  track  went  with  it. 

With  an  engine  and  his  private  car,  he  and  Ed- 
mund C.  Harris,  his  division  superintendent  from 
Chadron,  camped  at  their  work  and  killed  antelope 
and  sage  hens  at  odd  times.  In  those  peaceful,  happy 
days  I  frequently  accompanied  Mr.  Fitch  on  tours  west 
of  Chadron  and  to  the  Black  Hills.  An  engine  and 
his  private  car  was  the  train  and  just  we  two  would 
sit  out  on  the  rear  platform  and  shoot  sage  hens,  the 
engineer  would  slow  down  and  back  up  to  bag  the 
dead  birds.  They  were  so  plenty  it  was  easy  for  us  to 
supply  our  table  and   have  birds  to  bring  back  to 


Vagabonding  with  a  General  Manager  137 

Omaha.  I  not  only  toured  the  Elkhorn  road  with 
him,  but  after  he  went  to  Marquette,  Michigan,  to 
manage  the  Duluth,  South  Shore  &  Atlantic  road,  we 
traveled  together  from  Duluth  to  the  head  waters  of 
the  Mississippi  river,  to  the  lakes  in  Minnesota,  Michi- 
gan and  Wisconsin,  to  the  Sault  Ste.  Marie,  almost 
as  far  south  as  the  Gulf  of  Mexico  and  to  Idaho 
where  we  shot  blue  grouse  from  the  peaks  of  the  Saw 
Tooth  mountains.  He  frequently  came  out  to  Ne- 
braska to  keep  in  touch  with  the  many  friends  he  left 
on  the  Elkhorn  road  in  Omaha  and  to  enjoy  the  fine 
air  of  his  old  stamping  grounds  and  always  brought 
with  him  one  or  two  friends  to  show  them  what  he 
called  "God's  country."  On  one  occasion  Peter 
White,  from  Marquette,  a  prominent  and  well  known 
man  throughout  Michigan,  came  with  him.  Mr. 
White's  reputation  as  a  story-teller  was  proverbial, 
and  his  stories  were  generally  fresh  and  always  intend- 
ed to  be  new.  On  this  occasion  I  was  also  a  guest. 
Mr.  White  was  showing  his  best  art  in  relating  a  story 
to  a  cattleman,  presuming  the  narrative  was  new  to 
the  country.  His  listener  did  not  crack  a  smile  and 
was  patient  to  the  end ;  then  he  remarked :  "Oh,  yes, 
I  heard  that  in  Washington  last  winter."  White's 
heart  was  almost  broken,  and  to  the  end  of  the  trip 
he  did  not  recover  from  the  chagrin  of  finding  that 
a  cow  man  out  in  wild  Wyoming  had  already  heard 
one  of  his  pet  stories.  On  this  trip  Mr.  Fitch  and  my- 
self went  to  look  up  his  division  superintendent,  Mr. 
Harris,  at  Chadron,  and  left  Mr.  White  in  the  car.  At 
that  time  Horace  G.  Burt,  who  succeeded  Mr.  Fitch  as 
general  manager,  was  expected  down  on  the  Black 


138  Vagabonding  with  a  General  Manager 

Hills'  train  for  Omaha.  Thinking  he  would  come  to 
Fitch's  car,  Mr.  White  was  admonished  that  in  case 
Mr.  Burt  called,  to  see  to  it  that  no  liqufd  refreshment 
was  in  sight  on  the  car,  as  Mr.  Burt  was  a  strict  dis- 
ciplinarian and  it  might  be  a  serious  mistake  to  even 
mention  the  subject.  We  were  absent  some  time. 
Meanwhile  the  train  from  the  Black  Hills  pulled  in, 
and  Mr.  Burt  immediately  went  to  Mr.  Fitch's  car  to 
look  after  the  comfort  of  the  guest  of  his  road.  On 
entering  Mr.  White  explained  Mr.  Fitch's  absence,  and 
endeavored  to  lead  the  visitor  into  conversation  and 
entertain  him.  Burt  was  somewhat  restless  and  walk- 
ed up  and  down  the  car  nervously.  Finally  he  said,  "If 
this  is  Fitch's  car,  its  the  first  time  I  ever  saw  it  with- 
out some  sort  of  liquid  refreshments  on  board.  Is 
there  nothing  to  drink  on  this  car?"  "Oh,  certainly," 
said  Mr.  White,  and  having  a  key  to  the  locker,  he 
immediately  set  out  a  package,  called  "Lord's  Best 
Boon."  When  Mr.  Fitch  returned  he  found  his  guest 
waiting  for  him,  and  joined  in  the  festivities. 


(sfjVfi) 


GALENA.  ILLINOIS.  GENERAL 
GRANTS  OLD  HOME. 

Pig  lead  by  the  acre  was  stacked  on  the  steamboat 
wharf  at  Galena,  Illinois,  where,  in  1841,  my  father, 
Eli  A.  Collins,  and  Jesse  R.  Grant,  the  father  of  Gen- 
eral Grant,  opened  the  first  leather  and  saddlery  store 
west  of  Buffalo,  in  a  small  frame  building  on  a  lot 
where  the  DeSoto  house  now  stands. 

Jesse  R.  Grant  ran  the  small  tannery  at  Bethel, 
Ohio,  with  hides  bought  in  Galena,  and  shipped  by 
stern  wheel  steamers  and  barges  down  Fever  river, 
(afterwards  changed  to  Galena  river)  and  the  Mis- 
sissippi to  Cairo,  Illinois,  then  up  the  Ohio  to  the 
Bethel  landing,  above  Cincinnati. 

Chicago  was  then  a  village,  with  old  Fort  Dear- 
born, a  fur  trading  point,  few  buildings  and  less  pop- 
ulation than  the  bustling  lead  mining  town  of  Galena, 
situated  seven  miles  from  the  Mississippi  river. 

Stern  wheel  steamboats  and  barges  carried  away 
the  pig  lead  and  hides  to  St.  Louis  and  brought  in  the 
supplies  to  the  metropolis  of  Galena — for  metropolis 
it  was,  with  no  competing  town,  save  the  small  village 
of  Dubuque. 

Wagons,  with  trails  drawn  by  from  twelve  to 
twenty  yoke  of  oxen,  hauled  the  lead  to  the  steamboat 
landing.  Each  "pig"  was  branded  on  the  end  with 
a  letter  indicating  its  ownership.  It  was  piled  "cob 
fashion"  as  high  as  a  man  could  conveniently  lift  the 
weight. 


140  Gen.  Grant's  Old  Home 

The  firm  of  E.  A.  Collins  &  Company  bought  pig 
lead,  shipped  it  by  stern  wheel  steamboats  and  barges 
down  the  Mississippi  river  to  New  Orleans,  thence  by 
sailing  vessel  to  New  York,  sold  it  and  made  drafts 
against  the  proceeds  to  pay  for  purchases. 

The  dissolution  of  the  firm  of  E.  A.  Collins  & 
Company  occurred  in  1853  when  Jesse  R.  Grant  with- 
drew and  opened  an  opposition  store  in  the  old  stone 
Dowling  building,  corner  of  Main  and  Diagonal 
streets,  with  Simpson  S.  Grant,  the  oldest  of  the  Grant 
brothers  in  charge. 

While  managing  the  leather  store  in  the  Dowling 
building,  Simpson  S.  Grant's  health  became  impaired 
and  he  was  compelled  to  give  up  his  business.  It  was 
soon  after  that  Orville  L.  Grant  came  to  succeed  him. 
Later  the  Grant  business  was  moved  to  the  Coats- 
worth  block,  on  Main  street.  W.  T.  Medary  went  over- 
land with  Simpson  and  drove  to  Minnesota,  hoping 
to  restore  his  health,  but  failed.  Simpson  died  about 
the  summer  of  186 1. 

U.  S.  Grant  came  to  Galena  in  i860  when  his  career 
in  the  store  began.  When  E.  A.  Collins,  my  father, 
quit  business  he  sold  the  building  and  stock  on  Main 
street,  near  Hill,  to  Orville  L.  Grant  and  C.  R.  Per- 
kins. 

Henry,  Corwith  opened  the  first  bank  in  Galena. 
When  he  could  supply  eastern  exchange  to  merchants 
it  was  in  sums  of  one  to  five  or  six  hundred  dollars 
only,  at  a  premium  of  five  per  cent.  Occasionally  an 
eastern  man  would  drift  in  with  a  "one  hundred  dol- 
lar" bill  and  sell  it  to  a  merchant  at  the  same  prem- 
ium.   When  used  as  remittance  the  bill  was  cut  in  two 


Gen.  Grant's  Old  Home  141 

pieces,  one  half  being  sent  by  one  mail,  and  the  other 
half  going  a  week  or  two  later.  Occasionally  a  mer- 
chant would  muster  courage  and  take  the  stage  for 
the  long  tedious  ride  of  three  to  four  weeks  for  Buf- 
falo, the  western  terminus  of  the  New  York  Central 
Railroad,  and  thence  by  cars  to  New  York  City,  to  buy 
goods.  When  such  an  event  happened,  the  courageous 
passenger  usually  carried  an  extra  satchel  (carpet 
bag)  filled  with  coin  and  currency  for  his  fellow  mer- 
chants. 

As  the  inside  of  the  coach  was  usually  filled,  the 
money  satchel  was  sometimes  thrown  in  the  "boot" 
with  the  other  baggage.  Stage  robbers  were  unknown ; 
the  country  had  not  reached  the  advanced  stage  of 
"hold-ups"  and  "road  agents." 

The  American  House,  a  long  two  story  frame  hotel, 
on  Main,  near  Hill  street,  was  the  stage  office  and 
headquarters  for  Frink  &  Walker's  stage  line.  The 
eastern  terminus  was  Buffalo,  New  York.  The  stage 
arrived  twice  a  week,  fairly  regular  and  made  every 
effort  to  arrive  oftener  with  letter  mail.  Postage  was 
twenty-five  cents  for  each  letter,  and  eastern  news- 
papers three  to  four  weeks  old  also  cost  twenty-five 
cents  each. 

So  important  an  event  as  the  arrival  of  the  stage 
caused  stores  to  suspend  business  and  the  merchants 
to  gather  around  the  hotel  to  "see  the  stage  come  in," 
carrying  fifteen  to  twenty  passengers,  and  the  usual 
allotment  of  forty  pound  of  baggage  to  each  pas- 
senger, and  twenty-five  cents  per  pound  for  overweight. 

The  only  water  system  the  town  boasted  of  was 
"Swansey,"  a  negro  slave  owned  in  Missouri,  who 


142  Gen.  Grant's  Old  Home 

drove  a  platform  (two- wheeled)  dray  carrying  three 
water  barrels,  furnishing  the  stores  with  river  water, 
at  fifteen  cents  per  week  for  one  bucket  a  day,  and  by 
his  industry  earned  from  $1.25  to  $2.00  per  day,  for 
man,  horse  and  dray. 

In  passing  along  the  street  it  was  not  unusual  to 
see  shotbags  filled  with  5- franc  silver  coins  standing 
against  the  store  doors  of  W.  P.  Cubbage, — a  most 
unique  merchant — to  keep  them  open.  Quiet,  peace- 
ful days  were  those,  with  no  robbers  or  "hold-ups." 

The  lumber  supply  came  from  out  of  the  Wiscon- 
sin and  St.  Croix  rivers.  The  loggers  and  pinery  men, 
the  "Lumber  Jacks"  spent  the  winter  in  the  woods, 
cutting  and  banking  logs.  When  the  ice  went  out,  the 
logs  were  lashed  in  long  narrow  rafts  and  taken  down 
the  current  to  the  Mississippi  river,  there  to  be  pinned 
together  to  the  size  of  an  acre  or  more.  Shelter  for 
the  rafters  was  built  on  the  field  of  logs,  where  they 
lived.  Long  "sweeps"  were  put  on  the  front  and  rear 
end  for  "rudders"  to  steer  by,  to  the  number  of  fifteen 
to  twenty  on  each  end. 

Salt  pork,  flour,  coffee  and  sugar  were  the  usual 
provisions.  Thus  equipped,  the  entire  winter  crew 
embarked  for  their  long  run  from  the  pineries  to 
the  mouth  of  the  Fever  river,  where  the  field  of  logs 
was  again  put  into  small  sections  and  slowly  worked 
up  against  the  sluggish  current  of  Fever  river  to  "Old 
Town,"  and  delivered  to  the  small  steam  saw-mills. 
Here  the  occupation  of  the  loggers  ended. 

Lined  up  in  front  of  one  of  the  levee  stores,  usual- 
ly a  "steamboat  supply  house,"  dealing  in  cable  chains 
and  ropes,  steamboat  anchors,  block  and  tackles,  steam 


Gen.  Grant's  Old  Home  143 

pipes,  etc.,  two  hundred  to  three  hundred  of  these 
rugged  men,  who  for  nearly  a  year  had  not  been  out 
of  the  woods,  found  the  paymaster,  who  called  off 
their  names  and  handed  each  one  $300.00  to  $400.00 
in  a  lump — a  year's  wages. 

This  was  an  event  of  no  little  importance  to  every 
merchant  and  business  man  in  the  town.  The  keys 
to  the  city  were  not  officially  turned  over  by  the  mayor. 
That  made  no  difference,  for  the  loggers  took  posses- 
sion of  the  town  all  the  same. 

The  first  thing  necessary  was  to  "tog  out"  in  a  black 
soft  hat;  two  or  three  suits  of  underclothing;  red 
woolen  overshirts,  trousers  and  red  topped  boots; 
coats  and  overcoats  were  not  a  part  of  the  wardrobe. 
Dressed  in  this  fashion,  restaurants  and  hotels  were  the 
next  places  of  resort.  After  a  "square  meal"  the  town 
began  to  move.  There  was  no  war  tax  on  whiskey 
in  those  days,  fifty  cents  a  gallon  was  the  price,  and 
five  cents  a  drink.  Gallon  jugs  were  in  great  demand ; 
squads  of  men  were  seen  everywhere  going  towards 
the  lumber  piles  along  the  river  bank.  Very  little 
tim€  was  lost  in  "filling  up"  and  soon  the  town  was  in 
a  whirl;  fights  were  "on"  everywhere  in  the  main 
streets;  merchants  "put  up  their  shutters"  and  closed 
their  stores  to  save  the  window  glass.  Stones  flew 
as  thick  as  hail.  The  town  marshal,  Tom  O'Leary, 
organized  his  force  of  half  a  dozen  constables  and 
swore  in  every  idle  man  he  met  on  the  street  to  aid 
in  arresting  the  ringledders  and  putting  them  in  the 
"calaboose,"  which  at  times  was  taxed  to  overflow- 
ing. 

To  arrest  a  big  crowd  of  money-spending  logmen. 


144  Gen.  Grant's  Old  Home 

and  in  the  end  retain  their  good  will,  so  that  patronage 
would  not  be  withheld,  required  a  bit  of  diplomacy. 
The  business  men  were  equal  to  it,  and  quite  frequent- 
ly merchants  would  go  personally  and  bail  the  offender 
out.  This  usually  occurred  about  the  time  they  had 
''sobered  up"  and  there  was  no  further  need  of  their 
confinement. 

It  was  at  such  times  that  Esquire  Coombs,  the  Jus- 
tice of  the  Peace,  would  sweep  out  his  office,  opposite 
the  DeSoto  house,  where  justice  was  dispensed,  finish 
cooking  his  own  meal  in  the  back  room,  and  then  be 
ready  to  ''hold  court."  The  squire  was  a  unique  char- 
acter; five  feet  and  four  inches  tall,  weighing  nearly 
three  hundred  pounds  and  girthing  as  much  as  his 
height;  eyes  inclined  to  cross;  stern  of  countenance, 
and  a  trifle  surly  of  disposition.  When  on  the  bench, 
he  was  dignified  enough  for  a  judge  of  the  supreme 
court,  a  "terror  to  evil  doers,"  but  withal  most  just 
and  conscientious. 

Sam  Hughlett  was  a  prominent  and  striking  figure 
on  the  streets  of  Galena ;  six  feet  and  three  inches  tall ; 
of  large  frame ;  and  a  most  jovial,  easy-going,  upright 
man;  his  word  was  his  bond;  generous  to  a  fault; 
most  unostentatious  and  quiet  of  manner;  a  valued 
friend  whose  rugged  honesty  and  upright  business 
methods  were  perhaps  better  known  among  the  miners 
and  merchants  than  any  man  throughout  the  lead 
mines.  He  owned  the  first  smelter  of  Galena  ore,  and 
later  owned  all  of  the  smelters  and  bought  pig  lead  up 
to  the  time  of  his  death,  which  occurred  along  in  the 
early  "sixties."  He  and  the  Corwiths  were  the  deal- 
ers in  lead  in  early  days. 


Cen.  Grant's  Old  Home  145 

Nearly  three  hundred  two- wheeled  platform  drays 
hauled  the  merchandise  to  and  from  the  levee  and 
stores,  and  a  more  loyal  set  of  employes  was  never 
known.  The  drivers  were  the  owners  of  their  drays, 
one  to  half  a  dozen  of  which  being  regularly  employed 
by  each  merchant  and  business  house.  It  was  a  sight 
to  be  remembered — ^the  hurry  and  bustle  of  shipping 
and  receiving  goods  on  the  levee,  with  at  times 
twenty  or  more  ''packet,"  independent  and  "opposi- 
tion" side  wheel  steamers,  loading  and  unloading.  He 
was  a  good  driver  to  keep  **in  line"  in  the  narrow 
crooked  alleys  of  pig  lead  and  it  was  a  common  sight 
for  a  drayman  to  get  down  and  assert  his  rights  with 
a  dray  pin  or  a  black-snake  whip  in  his  effort  to  at- 
tract the  attention  of  the  **mud  clerk"  of  the  steam- 
boat and  have  him  "receipt  for  his  load"  in  his  turn. 

Owners  of  the  packet  lines  lived  all  the  way  be- 
tween St.  Louis  and  St.  Paul.  One  was  the  Galena, 
Dubuque,  Dunleith  and  St.  Paul  line,  the  other  was 
the  West  Newton  Opposition  line. 

A  steamboat  captain  was  a  "king."  A  pilot  was  a 
"prince."  The  latter  being  known  by  an  immaculate 
white  ruffled  and  embroidered  shirt  front,  a  gay  neck- 
tie, and  a  "sunburst"  diamond  pin,  to  which  was  at- 
tached a  small  gold  chain  with  a  plain  gold  pin  to 
stick  in  the  bosom  for  safety.  The  pilot's  pay  was 
$300.00  to  $400.00  per  month,  with  one  or  two  as- 
sistants and  a  "cub,"  learning  the  river  under  him. 
When  these  distinguished  men  walked  down  the  gang 
plank  and  stepped  on  shore,  the  ground  trembled. 

On  the  arrival  of  trains  bringing  three  hundred  to 
five   hundred   men,   women   and   children,   the   boats 


146  Gen.  Grant's  Old  Home 

would  immediately  get  up  steam.  Each  boat  had 
from  one  to  three  "runners,"  soliciting  passengers,  and 
the  cutting  and  slashing  of  passenger  fares  would  turn 
the  heart  of  a  railroad  man  of  the  present  age  to 
stone;  beginning  at  $12.00  for  cabin  passage,  the 
price  of  tickets  to  St.  Paul,  not  a  few  tail  ends  were 
carried  on  **deck"  from  Galena  to  St.  Paul,  for  $1.00, 
and  many  first  cabin,  including  meals,  for  $3.00  to 
$5.00.  It  was  cheaper  to  travel  on  a  steamboat  than 
to  stay  at  home. 

About  1854-5  the  Illinois  Central  railroad  completed 
its  road  to  Galena.  Then  the  emigration  to  Min- 
nesota began.  Twelve  to  twenty  steamboats  were 
loading  and  unloading  at  the  wharves.  When  the  big 
sidewheelers,  the  Northern  Belle,  War  Eagle,  Ocean 
Wave,  Menominee  and  the  West  Newton  landed  at 
the  wharves,  the  river  was  too  narrow  to  turn  around 
in  and  head  out,  so  they  had  to  back  out  as  far  down  as 
the  mouth  of  the  river — seven  miles. 

It  became  necessary  to  dredge  out  a  crescent 
shaped  bank  of  earth  opposite  the  landing  to  enable 
steamers  to  turn  around  and  steam  out  head  first. 
When  the  Illinois  Central  railroad  was  completed  to 
Dunleith,  the  steamboat  traffic  ceased  and  from  the 
increase  of  mud  and  decrease  of  water  in  the  Galena 
river,  that  stream  became  navigable  only  for  light 
draught  small  boats,  skiffs,  and  the  like. 

The  genial  and  warm-hearted  young  banker,  the 
late  John  E.  Corwith,  was  the  possessor  of  a  hand- 
some steam  launch,  carrying  ten  to  fifteen  persons.  A 
story  is  told  by  Mr.  Corwith's  friends — the  entire  truth 
of  which  I  do  not  vouch  for — that  when  the  launch  ar- 


I 


Gen.  CranVs  Old  Home  147 

rived  at  Galena  the  river  was  very  low,  scarcely  navi- 
gable for  even  this  small  craft.  John  was  popular 
with  Galenians  and  particularly  with  the  congressman 
of  the  Northern  district  of  Illinois,  through  whose  ef- 
forts and  those  of  M.  Y.  Johnson  and  the  citizens 
generally  the  government  was  induced  to  put  in  ''locks" 
at  the  mouth  of  the  river  and  back  the  water  up,  in- 
creasing its  depth,  at  least  to  the  tonnage  of  the  pleas- 
ure boat. 

It  became  a  common  thing  among  the  passengers 
on  the  Illinois  Central  railroad,  as  they  looked  out  of 
the  car  windows,  to  enquire:  ''There  seems  to  be  no 
traffic  on  this  stream  from  Galena  to  its  mouth;  what 
are  the  locks  for:'"  "The  government  put  them  in  to 
make  the  river  navigable  for  John  Cor  with  *s  pleasure 
boat;  the  only  vessel  on  the  river,"  was  the  reply. 

This  was  Galena  in  early  days,  where  General 
Grant  came  in  March,  i860,  to  make  his  home. 
Today  it  is  surrounded  by  railroads  on  all  sides.  A 
city  built  on  "seven  hills,"  the  pride  of  the  populace, 
and  a  delightful  home  for  the  sons  and  daughters  of 
its  pioneers,  but  in  business  and  population,  somewhat 
circumscribed. 

With  the  extension  and  completion  of  the  Illinois 
Central  railroad  to  Dunleith,  twenty-five  miles  west, 
the  days  of  steamboating  and  the  glory  of  historical 
Galena  departed. 

Eli  S.  Parker,  one  of  General  Grant's  staff  officers 
during  the  Civil  War,  was  a  full  blooded  Seneca  In- 
dian and  then  chief  of  the  "Six  Nations." 
By  profession  he  was  an  engineer;  a  man  of  splendid 
physique,  standing  six  feet  high  and  weighing  over  two 
hundred  pounds. 


148  Gen.  Grant's  Old  Home 

As  superintendent  of  construction  for  the  govern- 
ment, he  built  the  postoffice  in  Galena  in  1857-58. 
During  his  two  years'  residence  there  he  was  immense- 
ly popular,  contributing  his  valuable  experience  to  all 
the  city's  public  affairs,  as  well  as  to  all  social  enter- 
tainments, where  he  was  a  great  favorite.  He  was  an 
enthusiastic  sportsman  and  a  fine  field  shot.  It  was 
the  writer's  good  fortune  to  have  spent  many  a  day 
in  field  and  marsh  with  him,  greatly  enjoying  the  com- 
panionship of  this  gentlemanly  and  jovial  hunter. 

William  R.  Rowley,  on  General  Grant's  staff  for  a 
short  time  and  a  close  companion  later,  left  the  office 
of  county  clerk  for  Joe  Davies  county,  to  join  the 
army. 

John  A.  Rawlins,  Grant's  chief  of  staff,  and  later 
his  Secretary  of  War,  was  the  law  partner  of  David 
Sheean,  Esq.,  now,  as  then,  one  of  Galena's  most 
honored  citizens,  and  a  talented  attorney. 

Another  Galena  citizen  and  friend  of  General 
Grant,  was  General  J.  E.  Smith.  Before  the  war  he 
was  a  business  partner  of  J.  W.  Safely.  General 
Grant's  first  visit  to  Galena  was  about  1853,  while  tour- 
ing the  upper  Mississippi.  A  St.  Louis  steamer,  on 
which  he  was  a  passenger,  ran  into  Galena  near  mid- 
night and  the  General  took  this  occasion  to  walk  to 
the  home  of  E.  A.  Collins,  my  father — the  only  man 
he  knew  in  town — a  distance  of  three  miles. 

The  General's  first  war  horse,  a  chestnut  gelding, 
was  sent  to  General  Smith  after  the  Donaldson  fight; 
later  he  was  turned  over  to  J.  A.  Packard,  and  was 
the  first  horse  he  used  in  the  war.  His  bones  rest 
somewhere  among  the  "seven  hills." 


Gen.  Grant's  Old  Home     ^  149 

General  Grant  did  not  live  in  Galena  very  long. 
Quiet,  unobtrusive,  he  was  a  stranger  in  a  strange 
land,  entering  upon  a  new  life.  It  was  not  strange 
that  after  many  months'  residence,  scarcely  a  dozen 
families  knew  of  the  existence  of  himself  and  family. 
One  evidence  of  this  was  that  the  retail  merchants  and 
grocery  men  did  not  venture  to  run  a  family  supply 
account  with  him.  Thomas  Gilston,  then  a  retail  gro- 
cer on  Main  street,  near  Hill,  declined  to  send  a  bar- 
rel of  flour  to  his  home  without  spot  cash  or  payment 
guaranteed.  E.  A.  Collins  guaranteed  the  bill  and 
the  flour  was  sent.  After  this  incident,  no  guarantee 
was  necessary. 

Grant  drove  a  span  of  black  ponies  that  could  step 
along  at  a  lively  gait  and  it  was  his  custom  on  Sun- 
day to  drive  with  Mrs.  Grant  and  the  children  for 
Sunday  dinner  to  the  home  of  E.  A.  Collins.  On 
week  days  scarcely  a  day  passed  that  he  did  not  visit 
the  store  of  Mr.  Collins   and  he  was  always  smoking. 

Destiny  that  shapes  the  ends  of  all  mankind  soon 
changed  the  career  of  this  most  modest,  quiet  man.  I 
recall  a  time  after  Fort  Sumpter  was  fired  on,  that  E.  B. 
Washburn,  a  republican  congressman  from  Northern 
Illinois,  was  particularly  active. 

The  War  of  the  Rebellion  was  on,  politicians  were 
straining  every  point  to  get  "to  the  front,"  meetings 
being  held  every  night  for  the  organization  of  com- 
panies of  troops.  More  especially  was  it  noticed  that 
the  politicians  were  patriotic  and  eager  to  care  for  the 
welfare  of  their  country,  if  they  could  get  a  good  com- 
mission, running  all  the  way  from  a  captaincy  up. 

In  this  hurry  and  scurry  of  patriotism  the  name  of 
U.  S.  Grant  was  not  mentioned.    On  leaving  the  store 


150  Gen.  Grant's  Old  Home 

one  day  at  noon,  near  Main  and  Hill  streets,  I  was 
with  my  father  when  he  met  E.  B.  Washburn. 
There  was  a  wide  difference  in  politics  between 
the  two  men  and  relations  were  greatly  strained. 
This,  however,  did  not  deter  Mr.  Collins  from  ap- 
proaching the  congressman  in  this  way :  "Washburn, 
you  and  your  political  friends  in  all  your  activity  in 
calling  meetings,  raising  troops  and  appointing  offi- 
cers, evidently  are  not  aware  of  a  man  in  your  midst 
that  has  been  educated  by  the  government,  and  having 
served  under  Zack  Taylor  in  the  Mexican  war, 
knows  something  about  practical  warfare."  "Who  is 
this  man?"  inquired  Washburn.  "Ulysses  S.  Grant," 
said  Mr.  Collins,  "whom  you  all  pass  on  the  street 
every  day  and  do  not  know."  "If  that  is  so,"  said 
Washburn,  "I  will  look  him  up."  At  the  next  meeting 
at  the  court  house  for  the  purpose  of  enlisting  troops, 
Grant  was  called  out  of  the  audience — for  he  attend- 
ed nearly  all  the  war  meetings — and  invited  to  the 
platform.  At  the  end  of  this  meeting,  Grant  was  ap- 
pointed to  the  distinguished  position  of  drill  master 
of  newly  enlisted  men. 

To  my  certain  knowledge  this  was  the  beginning  of 
General  Grant's  career  in  the  War  of  the  Rebellion. 

It  is  astonishing  the  alacrity  with  which  hundreds 
of  Galena  people  suddenly  "knew  Grant,"  and  as  time 
went  on  the  number  increased  until  almost  every  man 
in  Joe  Davies  county  remembered  that  they  of  course, 

"knew  him  all  the  time." 

*     *     * 

THE  METTLE  OF  GRANT. 

F.  A.  Eastman,  for  the  Chicago  Chronicle,  in  a  long 
interview  with  John  H.  Alden,  in  December,  1902,  a 


Gen,  Grant's  Old  Home  151 

former  resident  of  Galena,  later  of  St.  Paul,  Minn., 
referring  to  E.  A.  Collins,  has  this  to  say : 

"This  reminds  me  of  a  little  circumstance  illustrat- 
ing Grant's  loyalty  to  his  friends,  a  trait  that  never 
deserted  him.  This  was  so  graceful,  so  brave,  an  evi- 
dence to  those  who  were  true  to  him  when  the  days 
were  dark,  that  it  deserves  mentioning.  Now,  Mr. 
Collins  was  a  democrat,  and  what  little  politics  Grant 
gave  expression  to  was  in  dead  opposition  to  every- 
thing savoring  of  abolitionism.  Mr.  Collins  liked 
Grant's  direct,  quiet  way  of  doing  things,  so  he  gave 
him  what  assistance  he  could,  and  Grant  needed  it. 

"During  the  war  Grant  made  numerous  tenders  of 
positions  to  Mr.  Collins,  but  that  gentleman  would 
accept  none  of  them.  All  were  declined  with  thanks. 
Immediately  after  tne  election  of  1868,  President-elect 
Grant  wrote  to  Mr.  Collins. 

"I  have  handled  and  read  that  letter,  and  as  near  as 
I  can  recollect  it  was  worded  like  this: 

"  'Dear  Mr.  Collins :  I  have  just  been  elected  pres- 
ident of  the  United  States.  There  is  but  one  office 
that  I  have  thus  far  pledged  myself  to  bestow  upon 
any  man  and  that  is  the  Secretaryship  of  State  to  the 
Hon.  E.  B.  Washburn.  You  may  name  the  man  for 
the  second  office,  Your  friend, 

"  'U.  S.  Grant.'  " 

Mr.  Collins  never  took  advantage  ot  this  tender  of 
the  new  president,  either  for  himself  or  for  a  friend." 


^ 


ox 


Eho 


PART  II 


COPYRIGHT    BY 

ROBERT   F.  GILDER 
1011 


CONTENTS— PART  II 

STORIES  OF  THE  PLAINS— 

Old  Fort  Laramie 5 

Phillips'  Account  of  the  Killing  of  Powell 12 

Catching  Trout  Through  the  Ice 16 

"He  Looked  Like  the  Boss  of  a  Mule  Train"...  18 

A  Cowboy  Wedding 21 

How  THE  Buffalo  Disappeared 26 

California  Joe — Who  Brought  in  the  Mule? 28 

A  Man  with  Nerve 34 

The  Killing  of  Hunton 36 

MosQuiTos 42 

Scalped  by  the  Sioux 44 

The  Rattlesnake 45 

How  Antelope  Kill  Snakes 46 

Jim  Bridger 46 

Holding  Up  a  U.  S.  Marshal 47 

HUNTING  stories- 
Wild  Goose  Hunting  on  the  Platte  River 51 

Indian  Sympathy 61 

Lost  Near  Camp 65 

In  the  Sand  Dunes 68 

A  Waterhaul  in  the  Wind  River  Range 70 

Antelope  Hunting 75 

How  to  Pack  a  Bear  Trap 79 

Out  On  the  Teapot  Bad  Lands 81 

Incidents 85 


CONTENTS— PART  II-Continued 

MISCELLANEOUS  STORIES— 

Working  for  Wages 89 

Is  This  Conscience  Money? 89 

Hustling 90 

The  Squaw  Man 90 

Down  the  Missouri  River  on  a  Steamboat 97 

The  Pack  Train 100 

Wild  Buffalo  in  a  Cattle  Pen 101 

"Jane" 102 

Side  Lights  on  a  Gold  Mining  Camp 103 

A  Miners'  Bread  Riot 107 

Lively  Staging  in  the  West 109 

Guarding  a  Prisoner 112 

A  Nez  Perces  Squaw 113 

Sixty  Thousand  Dressed  Buffalo  Hides 116 

Weighing  a  Grizzly  Bear 119 

LAKES  AND  WOODS  OF  WISCONSIN 121 

SAN  FRANCISCO  EARTHQUAKE  AND  FIRE 133 

A  Marine's  Story 145 

THE  BATTLE  OF  SUMMIT  SPRINGS,  NEBRASKA, 

JULY,  1869 148 


STORIES  OF  THE  PLAINS 

OLD  FORT  LARAMIE. 

This  historic  old  military  post,  at  the  time  of 
which  I  write,  had  been  occupied  by  United  States 
troops  over  60  years.  Previous  to  this  it  was  an  im- 
portant point  for  the  fur  traders  of  British  Colum- 
bia, Western  Canada,  New  Orleans,  St.  Louis,  and, 
in  fact  of  the  entire  west,  and  was  known  as  Fort  St. 
John.  From  the  time  it  was  occupied  by  the  United 
States  military  arm,  nearly  every  officer  and  enlist- 
ed man  in  the  army,  from  the  year  1845  up  to  1900, 
both  cavalry  and  infantry,  had  visited  there.  The 
Fort  was  built  for  six  or  eight  companies  and 
later  enlarged  for  a  regiment,  because  of  its  being 
located  in  the  heart  of  the  great  Sioux  Indian  coun- 
try. It  had  protected  the  Mormons  on  their  pil- 
grimage to  the  Great  Salt  Lake,  the  California  emi- 
grants of  '48  and  '49,  the  various  Indian  commis- 
sions treating  with  the  Sioux,  as  well  as  the  travel 
to  the  Black  Hills.  It  was  at  Fort  Laramie  that 
General  George  Crook,  commanding  the  Depart- 
ment of  the  Platte,  fitted  out  his  great  army  against 
Crazy  Horse  and  Sitting  Bull  in  1875-76.  The  post 
has  since  been  abandoned,  the  buildings  sold,  and 
at  this  writing  it  has  assumed  the  proportions  of  a 
small  village. 

During  my  stay  of  twelve  years  at  the  post 
scarcely  a  day  passed  that  did  not  reveal  some  item 
going  to  make  western  history.    During  that  time  I 


6  Old  Fori  Laramie 

recall  these  officers :  General  John  E.  Smith,  Colonel 
Townsend,  General  L.  P.  Bradley,  Julius  Mason,  A. 
W.  Evans,  Jesse  Lee,  John  Mix,  Leonard  Hay, 
Sammy  Munson,  Teddy  Egan,  Captain  Collier, 
Lieutenants  Allison,  Seaton,  and  others,  who  had 
been  in  command  of  the  post  or  of  various  com- 
panies. The  post,  too,  had  been  visited  by  the 
Sheridans,  the  Shermans,  General  Thomas,  General 
Curtis,  General  G.  M.  Dodge,  and  if  the  names  could 
be  emblazoned  on  a  monument  erected  on  the  old 
parade  ground,  and  the  reservation  be  set  aside  as  a 
government  reserve  park,  commemorative  of  one 
of  the  oldest  and  most  important  military  posts  in 
the  United  States,  not  a  taxpayer  in  this  broad  land 
would  begrudge  his  small  contribution  to  the  fund. 

But  there  is  too  much  politics,  both  in  the  house 
and  senate  of  the  United  States  to  take  an  interest 
in  such  a  trifling  thing. 

I  was  post  trader  at  Fort  Laramie  for  twelve 
years.  The  soldiers  during  my  stay  were  a  rough, 
devil-may-care  assortment  from  all  states.  Many 
of  them  were  refugees  from  justice,  some  had  been 
former  penitentiary  convicts,  and  nearly  all  were  as 
tough  a  lot  of  men  as  could  be  sifted  through  the 
mesh.  To  them  no  service  was  a  hardship,  no  order 
too  strict  to  obey;  scouting  for  Indians,  sleeping 
without  tents  in  the  coldest  weather,  wading  through 
mud  knee  deep,  and  frozen  streams  and  snow.  When 
the  march  was  over  for  the  day  many  of  them  were 
employed  by  officers  to  pitch  tents,  cook,  make 
beds,  carry  wood  and  water  and  prepare  meals,  for 
an  additional  compensation  of  $2.00  to  $5.00  per 
month  over  the  regular  pay  of  an  enlisted  man,  of 


Old  Fort  Laramie  7 

$13.00  per  month.  These  were  designated  by  others 
of  the  company  as  *'dog  robbers." 

Along  in  75  and  76  the  Indians  were  at  their 
worst.  Later  came  the  "road  agents,"  and  it  was 
an  uninteresting  day  that  did  not  bring  some  event 
worthy  of  record.  Some  of  the  "bad"  men  of  the 
country  found  employment  at  the  ranches  nearby. 
It  seemed  beyond  the  abihty  of  that  stripe  of  off- 
scourings to  lead  a  fairly  respectable  life  and  keep 
their  own  council,  and  when  payday  came  around 
it  was  the  rule  to  come  to  the  post  and  get  glori- 
ously drunk.  With  a  Colt's  revolver  in  one  bootleg, 
hunting  knife  in  the  other,  and  carrying  a  reputa- 
tion as  a  "bad"  man,  respectable  people  were  on 
their  guard.  If  the  clerks  in  the  trader's  store  did 
not  come  in  contact  with  them  at  the  height  of  their 
rage  it  was  considered  a  quiet  day.  To  the  credit 
of  these  clerk  employes  of  mine,  with  good  judg- 
ment and  plenty  of  "sand,"  the  very  toughest  of  the 
"bad"  men  could  be  wallowed  in  the  mud  in  front 
of  the  store  for  any  great  breach  of  conduct.  The 
calling  of  the  sergeant  of  the  guard  or  officer  of 
the  day  sometimes  landed  the  toughest  in  the  guard 
house,  and  when  they  sobered  up  they  were  usually 
quietly  led  off  the  reservation  in  front  of  a  bayonet 
point  never  to  return. 

One  amusing  incident  was  when  a  tall,  slim 
Yanctonai  Indian  drifted  in  from  the  Standing  Rock 
agency  on  the  Missouri  river.  He  was  togged  out 
in  a  flimsy  remnant  of  a  buckskin  shirt,  leggins, 
badly  worn  moccasins  and  brass  wire  armlets,  pre- 
senting the  appearance  of  an  aboriginal  tramp.  He 
at  once  began  a  speech  in  Sioux  which  no  one  could 


6  '  Old  Fort  Laramie 

understand.  Baptiste  Pourre,  generally  known  as 
**Big  Bat"  the  scout,  living  six  miles  up  the  river, 
was  the  post  interpreter  and  came  down  only  when 
ordered  by  the  commanding  officer,  or  to  the  com- 
missary for  supplies.  The  Indian  addressed  him- 
self to  everyone,  individually  and  collectively,  about 
the  store,  talking  his  gibberish  in  a  loud  voice  and 
exhibiting  apparent  distress.  General  L.  P.  Bradley, 
commanding  the  post,  chanced  to  pass  the  store 
door  and  hearing  the  racket  came  in  to  see  what 
was  up.  The  Indian  immediately  turned  on  the 
officer  and  began  a  new  speech  and  he  held  the 
general  down  to  it  until  he  was  through.  The  gen- 
eral at  once  dispatched  a  courier  for  the  post  inter- 
preter to  learn  if  he  could  understand  what  the 
Sioux  had  on  his  mind,  evidently  believing  that  it 
must  be  something  of  a  serious  nature.  It  happened 
I  was  the  main  victim,  having  been  pointed  out  as 
the  storekeeper. 

The  orderly  and  Bat  soon  came  in  together  and 
the  Indian's  parley  was  begun  again.  He  fairly 
danced  with  joy  when  he  found  someone  who  could 
understand  his  language.  After  a  few  moment's 
conversation  Bat  turned  to  the  general  and  said : 

''This  Indian  came  from  the  Standing  Rock 
agency  on  the  Missouri  river.  He  came  alone  to  see 
the  soldiers  and  the  storekeeper  and  the  big  white 
chief.  He  is  very  poor  and  hungry  and  wants  to  go 
back  tonight  to  Red  Cloud's  camp.  He  lived  here 
when  he  was  a  boy,  raced  horses  and  played  games, 
and  there  were  many  buffalo  along  the  river,  and 
his  people  were  as  thick  in  the  country  almost  as 
the  blades  of  grass,  and  he  wants  the  storekeeper 


Old  Fort  Laramie  9 

to  give  him  a  dress  and  some  beads  for  his  squaw, 
some  raisins  for  his  children  and  tobacco  for  him- 
self." 

Turning  to  me  General  Bradley  said : 

''Collins,  this  important  business  seems  to  be  up 
to  you.  When  you  get  through  with  your  friend, 
the  interpreter  will  direct  him  out  of  the  post." 

To  this  I  replied : 

**He  need  not  be  detained  on  my  account.  Bat 
can  take  him  at  once." 

One  of  the  clerks  bundled  up  ten  yards  of  calico, 
some  beads,  tobacco  and  raisins.  The  Indian  shook 
hands  all  around  and  said  "How"  to  everyone  in 
the  store  and  was  shown  the  way  down  to  the  bridge 

and  across  the  river. 

*     *     * 

A  few  miles  above  the  post  on  the  Platte  river, 
just  below  the  canyon  and  near  Whalen's  ranch 
was  a  cataract  in  the  river  which  was  a  great  fishing 
place.  In  season  I  made  frequent  trips  to  this  point, 
usually  meeting  with  great  success,  taking  from 
twenty-five  to  one  hundred  pounds  of  wall-eyed 
pike  weighing  from  one  to  five  pounds  each.  Dr. 
Grimes,  then  contract  surgeon  at  the  post,  accom- 
panied me  on  one  of  these  trips.  On  returning  we 
came  near  the  "4-P"  ranch,  where  a  high  ledge  cf 
rocks  hung  over  the  road,  the  highway  being  in 
reality  the  old  California  trail  on  the  north  side 
of  the  river.  Wind  and  rain  had  cut  away  the  soft 
sand  rock  on  the  road  level,  leaving  dark  and  of  en 
spaces  or  shelters  under  the  ledges.  Coyotes  made 
their  dens  there  and  bones  of  animals  were  scattered 
about  in  profusion.     A  bundle 'of  red  blankets  at- 


10  Old  Fort  Laramie 

tracted  our  attention,  and  on  investigation  we  found 
a  "good  Indian"  wrapped  up  and  carelessly  pushed 
into  one  of  the  holes.  We  called  him  a  ''good  In- 
dian" because  he  was  a  dead  one.  The  living  In- 
dians were  then  at  the  very  pinnacle  of  their  devil- 
ment, stealing  horses  and  cattle,  burning  wagons, 
killing  every  belated  teamster  or  traveler  who  came 
their  way.    They  were  not  good  Indians. 

From  the  careless  way  in  which  the  bundle  was 
pushed  under  the  ledge,  the  body  had  evidently 
been  placed  there  at  night,  the  fellow  having  been 
killed  in  some  skirmish  with  white  men  who  were 
defending  their  stock,  and  the  body  had  been  carried 
as  far  as  could  be  by  his  companions  in  the  raid, 
who,  perhaps  expected  to  return  and  get  it  the  earli- 
est opportunity.  A  few  days  later  some  prospectors 
passed  by  the  spot  where  the  body  had  been  cached 

but  saw  nothing  of  it. 

*     *     * 

When  cowmen  wore  $30.00  Stetson  hats,  with 
leather  bands,  high-heeled  boots  to  prevent  being 
caught  in  the  stirrup  and  to  dig  into  the  dirt  after 
they  roped  an  animal  while  on  foot;  leather 
''chapps,"  as  protection  for  their  legs  in  brush  as 
well  as  for  warmth  in  winter;  braided  quirt;  leath- 
ern cufifs  to  protect  wrists  in  roping;  leathern  shirt 
bosom;  a  No.  130  ''Collins"  saddle,  or,  as  more  ex- 
travagant taste  would  require,  a  saddle  costing  from 
$75.00  to  $100.00;  $1.25  bridle;  Mexican  inlaid  silver 
spurs  costing  $25.00,  and  a  $30.00  bit  of  the  same 
material ;  they  generally  placed  them  upon  a  $25.00 
or  $30.00  cow  horse.  This  was  not  the  only  use  for 
an  outfit  costing  all  the  way  from  $75.00  to  $200.00. 


Old  Fort  Laramie  It 

Anything  with  the  name  "Collins"  from  Cheyenne, 
Omaha,  or  from  our  stores  along  the  Northern  Pa- 
cific, in  Montana,  would  always  pass  as  current  as 
gold  coin  on  the  range  at  more  than  their  cost. 

Even  President  Roosevelt  learned  to  value  such 
articles  as  the  most  appropriate  for  use  on  the  range 
and  in  handling  cattle  and  horses,  and  our  strenuous 
president  did  not  stop  at  the  range  either  to  find 
out  other  uses  for  leather  work  with  the  stamp 
''Collins"  upon  it.  When  later  he  went  to  the 
southern  states  to  join  the  fashionable  riding  clubs 
and  follow  the  hounds  it  was  he  who  suggested  the 
cowgirl  "Collins"  saddle,  and  in  order  to  show  the 
faith  he  had  in  it  he  at  once  ordered  them  with 
money  from  his  own  purse.  Among  all  the  thou- 
sands of  customers  and  cowmen  whose  names  were 
on  our  books  there  were  none  more  agreeable  to  us 
or  more  appreciated  and  valued  than  President 
Roosevelt.  Should  these  pages  ever  reach  his  eye 
no  doubt  they  will  remind  him  of  the  jolly  rough- 
and-tumble  life  of  cow  camps  in  the  piping  days 
when  he  followed  the  trail  at  Medora,  Montana,  on 
the  Little  Missouri,  of  the  longhorns  from  his  ranch, 
when  he  was  "one  of  the  men"  of  that  country. 

I  have  said  a  "Collins"  cowboy  outfit  costing, 
perhaps,  $200.00  would  pass  as  current  as  would 
gold  coin  with  all  cowmen  on  or  off  the  range.  This 
outfit  was  considered  a  star  "buck"  in  the  favorite 
game  of  poker,  played  nightly  around  a  camp  fire 
when  the  last  wage  check  had  changed  to  the 
winner.  In  fact  anything  made  of  leather  would  go 
at  par  or  at  a  premium  in  such  a  game,  such  was  the 
character  of  horse  equipments  made  by  us — because 


12  Phillips'  Account  of  the  Killing  of  Powell 

the  cowmen  required  the  goods  and  they  would  pay 
the  price. 

There  are  many  ''Collins"  equipments  still  on  the 
ranges  of  Texas,  Oregon,  the  British  possessions, 
and  other  parts  of  the  west,  made  thirty  years  ago. 


PHILLIPS'    ACCOUNT    OF    THE    KILLING    OF 
POWELL. 

The  following  incident  shows  the  good-fellowship, 
loyalty  and  neighborly  interest  of  the  early  settlers 
on  the  Laramie  river  in  the  '60's  and  '70's,  when  the 
Indians  menaced  every  white  settler  who  came  onto 
the  Laramie  and  Platte  rivers,  for  a  hundred  miles 
around. 

The  killing  of  Powell  occurred  in  1872.  Powell 
was  a  quaker,  driving  a  herd  of  cattle  north  to  find 
a  safe  range  for  winter,  and  later  to  make  sale  of 
his  herd.  In  the  fall  of  71  a  snowstorm  caught  him 
with  his  herd  near  the  mouth  of  the  North  Laramie 
river,  where  he  built  a  cabin  and  corrals  and  win- 
tered. A  man  by  the  name  of  Frazier  and  three 
other  men  made  up  his  party  when  he  made  camp. 
Powell  and  his  men  were  always  on  the  alert  in 
watching  their  herd,  because  they  knew  that  In- 
dians swarmed  about  them,  killing  cattle  to  eat  and 
watching  every  opportunity  to  steal  horses.  The 
vigilance  of  this  party  of  four  men  was  unabating, 
and  this  same  vigilance  led  to  the  death  of  Powell. 

Leaving  his  camp  after  a  snow  storm  in  charge 
of  the  four  men,  he  started  out  alone  on  a  fine  mule 
that  was  shod  to  ride  through  and  around  the  cattle 


Phillips'  Account  of  the  Killing  of  Powell  IS 

and  see  if  the  storm  had  scattered  them  badly,  and 
also  to  see  if  he  could  pick  up  the  trail  of  his  stolen 
horses  that  were  taken  by  the  Indians  before  a  snow 
storm  of  a  day  or  two  previous.  When  evening 
came  and  he  did  not  return  to  the  ranch,  the  men 
in  camp  became  uneasy,  and  Frazier  rode  down  to 
the  ranch  of  F.  M.  Phillips,  one  of  the  early  settlers 
who  furnished  beef  to  the  military  post,  and  wha 
lived  at  the  mouth  of  the  Chugwater  on  the  Lara- 
mie river  only  a  few  miles  away,  to  ascertain  if 
Powell  had  been  seen  in  the  vicinity,  there  being 
few  other  settlers  between  there  and  Laramie. 
Phillips  was  at  home,  and  after  hearing  the  story  of 
Frazier,  concluded  that  Powell  had  been  taken  in 
by  the  Indians,  for  it  was  only  the  night  before  that 
they  ran  off  some  of  Powell's  horse  stock.  As 
Powell  was  a  sober,  industrious  and  reliable  man,. 
Phillips'  idea  was  at  once  accepted — that  the  In- 
dians who  had  run  off  the  horses  and  held  them 
near  by,  were  expecting  the  owner  would  follow 
and  that  they  would  capture  or  kill  him,  take  his 
saddle  horse,  then  supply  their  want  of  beef,  and 
get  out  of  the  country  before  the  alarm  was  given 
and  any  one  could  follow  them.  Phillips  immedi- 
ately saddled  a  horse  and  rode  to  Fort  Laramie,  a 
distance  of  nearly  twenty  miles.  General  John  E. 
Smith  was  in  command  and  Phillips  called  on  him 
at  once  and  told  the  story  of  Frazier  and  asked 
General  Smith  to  send  a  sergeant  and  a  few  men 
and  he  would  go  with  them  and  try  and  learn  the 
fate  of  Powell.  It  was  supposed  that  the  military 
was  stationed  at  Fort  Laramie  for  two  reasons  only, 
viz.;  to  protect  settlers  and  to  guard  the  emigrants 


14  Phillips'  Account  of  the  Killing  of  Powell 

going  west.  One  hundred  and  fifty  Indians  were 
in  the  post  on  that  day  peacefully  trading  at  the 
store,  and  General  Smith  presumed  that  the  incident 
related  by  Mr.  Phillips  must  be  untrue.  He  wovld 
not  believe  that  any  war  parties  were  out,  while  In- 
dians were  peacefully  trading  at  the  post^  and  flatly 
refused  to  allow  any  soldiers  to  leave  the  garrison. 
For  his  error  of  judgment  in  this  matter  the  settlers 
blame  him  to  this  day. 

"Well,"  said  Phillips  to  the  general,  "if  you  won't 
give  us  any  assistance  I  will  raise  what  few  men  I 
can  on  the  river,  who  I  know  will  not  refuse  to  go, 
and  I  will  go  with  them  and  we  will  try  to  protect 
ourselves.  Perhaps  on  our  return  we  will  show  you 
that  we  are  right." 

There  were  a  few  cowboys  working  at  the  ranches 
along  the  river,  and  when  Phillips  told  his  story 
four  of  them  volunteered  to  go  and  immediately 
saddled  their  ponies  to  accompany  him.  It  was 
nearly  dark  when  the  party  arrived  at  Phillips' 
ranch,  and  here  they  remained  all  night. 

The  next  morning  at  daybreak  they  were  off  for 
Powell's  camp  to  see  if  he  was  still  missing.  Having 
no  tidings,  they  took  up  the  trail  of  the  shod  mule 
ridden  by  Powell  and  followed  it  in  the  direction  of 
Cottonwood  creek.  Here  they  were  attracted  by  a 
bunch  of  coyotes  hiking  away  from  a  thick  bunch 
of  brush,  and  also  a  flock  of  magpies  hovering 
around,  which  led  them  to  the  carcass  of  an  old  bull 
the  Indians  had  killed  and  feasted  on  the  day  before. 
Here  they  also  found  the  trail  of  the  loose  stock 
Powell  had  evidently  been  trailing.  The  remains 
of  a  fire,  pony  and  moccasin  tracks  were  numerous. 


Phillips'  Account  of  the  Killing  of  Powell  15 

Powell  evidently  followed  the  trail  of  his  lost  stock 
to  this  point,  and  here  the  Indians  captured  both 
him  and  the  mule  he  rode.  There  were  signs  where 
they  had  made  "medicine"  by  rocks  heated  and 
covered  by  a  small  tepee ;  this  was  to  decide  whether 
they  would  carry  him  away  alive  or  kill  him  and 
leave  no  chance  for  his  giving  the  alarm. 

Trails  ran  all  together,  but  the  five  men  were  ex- 
perienced in  the  arts  and  wiles  of  the  Sioux,  and 
making  a  circle  around  the  camp  ground,  found 
where  the  shod  mule  ridden  by  Powell  led  out  from 
the  Cottonwood,  with  pony  tracks  of  an  Indian  on 
each  side  of  the  mule  trail.  Evidently  the  Indians 
were  afraid  to  turn  Powell  loose  lest  he  give  alarm 
before  they  could  get  out  of  the  country.  The  trail 
led  to  Fish  creek,  a  dry  stream  bed,  and  a  wide  sand 
draw,  and  out  on  the  bank  of  boulders.  It  was  evi- 
dent that  the  Indians  had  made  Powell  a  prisoner, 
and  up  to  that  time  had  not  decided  what  disposi- 
tion they  would  make  of  him.  It  was  evident,  also, 
that  the  Indians  left  behind  had  later  followed  the 
same  trail. 

Just  across  the  big  Fish  creek  sand  draw,  among 
some  boulders,  Phillips  came  to  the  body  of  Powell., 
lying  on  his  face,  with  legs  and  arms  extended, 
scalped.  Two  arrows  were  sticking  in  his  back, 
and  the  back  of  his  skull  was  crushed  in  as  if  done 
with  a  rock.  They  carried  the  body  on  a  horse  to 
Phillips'  ranch,  and  the  next  day  took  it  in  a  wagon 
to  the  post  to  get  the  quartermaster  to  make  a  coffin 
to  bury  it  in.  Then  Phillips  went  to  report  the  find- 
ing of  the  body  to  the  commanding  officer  and  told 
him  the  circumstances  and  added:  "If  we  had  had 


16  Catching  Trout  Through  the  Ice 

ten  or  fifteen  soldiers,  we  could  have  overtaken  and 
captured  the  Indians  before  they  reached  the  Platte 
river."  Powell's  body  was  buried  at  the  post.  The 
number  of  horses  he  lost  was  thirty  to  thirty-five 
head.  Powell's  home  was  in  Conconaski,  Kansas. 
Sanborn  &  King,  attorneys  in  Washington,  later 
made  a  claim  for  the  stock  for  his  relatives,  but  the 
result  I  do  not  know. 


CATCHING  TROUT  THROUGH  THE  ICE. 

A  short  bow-legged  fellow  about  thirty  years  old, 
weighing  less  than  one  hundred  pounds,  came  to  me 
at  ''Silver  Bow."  His  story  was  brief,  but  had  the 
merit  of  frankness  at  least.  He  said :  ''I've  been  a 
sailor  eight  years  before  the  mast  on  a  cooley  ship, 
living  on  'duff'  until  a  square  meal  would  surprise 
my  stomach.  Left  the  ship  at  San  Francisco, 
walked  half  the  way,  fell  in  with  a  pack  train  from 
Walla  Walla  to  Helena.  There  I  saw  an  old  mess- 
mate whom  I  thought  was  looking  for  me,  and  I 
took  to  the  sage  brush.  Can  you  give  me  a  job? 
I  am  too  light  of  weight  to  mine."  I  showed  him 
a  pile  of  pitch  pine  trees  hauled  up  for  my  winter's 
fire  wood,  and  said:  "You  will  find  th**  axe  at  the 
corner  of  the  cabin."  When  he  had  spent  a  week 
on  that  wood  pile  it  was  chopped  and  piled  up  in 
ship-shape,  with  the  chips  gathered  and  throv^n 
under  a  cover  of  poles  he  built,  and  all  finished  with 
as  much  care  as  a  hunter  would  sit  down  and  load 
a  thousand  cartridges. 

"There's  a  world  of  trout  down  on  Dear  Lodge 
near  Johnnie  Grant's  place,  thirty  miles  from  here," 


Catching  Trout  Through  the  Ice  17 

he  said  to  me  one  day.  There  were  eight  inches 
of  snow  on  the  ground;  the  mercury  stood  at 
10  degrees  below  zero.  The  following  day  was 
Sunday,  when  all  the  miners  came  in  to  trade.  The 
sailor  caught  up  my  two  pinto  ponies  and  Monday 
before  daylight  we  two,  with  a  lunch  in  our  pockets, 
an  axe,  fishing  tackle  and  a  piece  of  antelope  meat 
for  bait,  started  out.  In  four  hours  we  were  on 
Deer  Lodge  creek  cutting  holes  through  eight  inches 
of  clear,  solid  ice.  Baiting  our  hooks  with  lines  to  a 
short  pole  of  willow,  we  dropped  them  into  eight 
feet  of  water,  and  at  the  first  throw  brought  up 
two  mountain  brook  trout  that  would  weigh  three- 
quarters  of  a  pound  each.  As  fast  as  we  could  bait 
our  hooks  and  get  them  into  the  water  a  trout 
would  take  it.  After  landing  four  or  five  the. water 
froze  on  the  lines  and  covered  them  with  nearly  an 
inch  of  ice.  After  building  a  fire  on  the  ice  and 
eating  a  very  cold  lunch  we  fished  another  hour, 
and  then  started  back  home  with  nearly  a  half 
bushel  of  as  handsome  trout  as  it  has  ever  been  my 
good  fortunte  to  see.  The  fish  froze  stiff  in  half  a 
minute  after  being  out  of  water.  The  sailor  said: 
"They  froze  with  the  'wiggle'  in."  Lashing  them 
behind  the  saddle  in  a  grain  bag  we  were  back  at 
Silver  Bow  soon  after  dark  and  threw  the  trout  in 
a  tub  of  water  to  thaw  them  out.  In  half  an  hour 
"Shorty"  called  out :  "Bugger  my  eyes,  mate,  Tm  a 
moose  if  the  flounders  ain't  going."  Sure  enough, 
they  had  thawed  out  and  were  wiggling  around  in 
the  shallow  water  in  the  tub  trying  to  swim. 

I  have  related  this  incident  to  many  experienced 
fishermen  and  have  sometimes    noticed    they    ap- 


18  He  Looked  Like  the  Boss  of  a  Mule  Train 

peared  to  regard  it  as  a  "fish  story"  of  pretty  fair 
proportions,  but  although  among  them  were  several 
naturalists  not  one  of  them  could  give  a  satisfactory 
answer  to  the  question :  How  can  fish  which  have 
been  frozen  stiff  come  to  life? 

During  my  many  fishing  trips  I  have  met  fisher- 
men of  many  countries  and  with  all  of  them  I  have 
discussed  the  frozen  fish  incident,  but  no  one  could 
advance  a  palpable  reason  why  our  trout  came  to  life 
after  they  had  been  dead  to  all  appearances  for  sev- 
eral hours,  and  not  only  dead,  but  also  frozen. 

For  my  own  part  I  would  say  that  if  fish  were 
dead  before  the  water  around  them  thawed  out  they 
could  never  revive.  Our  trout  surely  froze  with  the 
"wiggle"  on  them,  as  my  companion  suggested. 


HE  LOOKED  LIKE  THE  BOSS  OF  A  MULE  TRAIN. 

Fort  Laramie  was  headquarters  for  General  Crook 
during  his  preparations  for  his  Indian  war  against 
Sitting  Bull  and  the  northern  Indians,  in  1875-76, 
and  in  anticipation  of  an  Indian  war  that  foreboded 
hardships  and  sufferings  of  the  troops,  wintering  in 
the  then  unsettled  Big  Horn  country,  with  the  usual 
accidents  of  war  added,  a  number  of  prominent 
newspapers  throughout  the  country  sent  corres- 
pondents to  Fort  Laramie  to  accompany  the  army 
on  the  campaign.  Of  course  no  events  had  oc- 
curred up  to  that  time  and  it  was  tedious  work  for 
the  correspondents  to  stay  around  the  post,  where 


He  Looked  Like  the  Boss  of  a  Mule  Train  19 

no  information  could  be  obtained  from  the  "close 
corporation"  of  General  Phil  Sheridan,  who  fre- 
quently visited  the  post  to  consult  with  General 
Crook  and  other  officers  who  were  busy  enough 
figuring  out  the  plans  of  their  campaign  to  be 
carried  into  effect  later.  One  afternoon  the  stage 
from  Cheyenne  drove  up  to  my  store  and  a  gentle- 
manly appearing  young  man,  with  a  tired  look,  and 
covered  with  the  dust  of  travel,  got  out  and  in- 
quired at  the  store  where  General  Crook  could  be 
found. 

He  was  directed  to  the  officers'  club  rooms  ad- 
joining the  store,  and  he  started  in  that  direction. 
The  general  and  myself  had  just  returned  from  up 
the  Laramie  valley,  where  we  had  spent  the  day 
hunting,  and  he  had  not  yet  gotten  out  of  his  well 
worn  canvas  hunting  clothes  and  he  looked  like 
anything  but  a  general  planning  the  most  important 
Indian  war  against  the  northern  hostile  Indians 
that  the  United  States  has  ever  known.  He  was 
knocking  the  billiard  balls  about  waiting  for  his 
dinner.  The  new  arrival,  who  proved  to  be  a  news- 
paper representative,  walked  around  to  the  club 
room  and  looked  in  on  a  few  young  officers,  but 
saw  not  one  who  had  the  appearance  of  a  general,  so 
he  returned  to  the  store  for  further  information. 
The  clerk  asked : 

"Did  you  see  a  large  man  with  a  full  beard  dressed 
in  canvas  hunting  clothes  and  a  slouch  hat?" 

"Yes,"  he  replied,  "I  saw  a  seedy  looking  man 
dressed  as  you  describe,  but  I  am  looking  for  Gen- 
eral Crook." 

"That's  him,"  said  the  clerk. 


20  He  Looked  Like  the  Boss  of  a  Mule  Train 

*'Well,"  said  the  stranger,  ''I  took  that  man  to  be 
one  of  the  bosses  of  a  mule  train." 

"The  clerk  replied,  "When  you  have  talked  with 
him  a  few  minutes,  you  will  find  he  has  a  more  im- 
portant job  on  hand  than  bossing  a  mule  train." 

Some  months  after  this  incident,  and  after  General 
Mills'  engagement  with  the  Indians  at  Slim  Butte, 
the  general  had  been  with  his  command  enduring  all 
the  hardships  of  the  noted  Indian  campaign  on 
Tongue  river  and  Rosebud,  in  which  no  private  or 
officer  suffered  more  privations  or  hardships  than 
did  the  general  himself,  the  command  returned 
from  the  war,  via  Deadwood,  then  a  somewhat  new 
mining  camp,  that  from  its  earliest  discovery  had 
been  menaced  and  harassed  by  Indians,  miners  being 
driven  in  from  prospecting,  and  many  of  them 
killed.  The  arrival  of  troops  was  to  Deadwood  and 
every  settlement  or  prospector  around  it,  the 
greatest  boon  they  could  possibly  wish  for.  The 
keys  of  the  town  were  by  common  consent  turned 
over  to  the  army.  In  the  language  of  the  Honor- 
able Peter  White  of  Michigan,  the  city  "filled  them 
to  their  jaw"  with  the  best  the  town  could  offer. 
Officers  and  soldiers  were  treated  alike.  The 
gambling  houses  engaged  an  extra  band,  the  "hurdy 
gurdy"  houses  opened  with  an  added  vim,  and 
everything  was  free  "to  Crook  and  his  soldiers." 
The  troops  were  almost  in  rags  from  their  long  and 
arduous  service  in  the  field  and  not  an  officer  or 
soldier  among  them  but  what  was  as  well  or  better 
dressed  than  the  general  himself.  Out  of  the  mer- 
chants' limited  stock  of  clothing  which  would  be- 
come a  brigadier  general  he  was  togged  out  in  a 


A  Cowboy  Wedding  21 

brand  new  suit,  and  in  this  he  soon  after  arrived  at 
Fort  Laramie  by  stage  to  get  in  communication  with 
Washington,  D.  C,  this  being  the  nearest  telegraph 
station.  On  his  arrival  there  I  criticized  the  gen- 
eral's appearance  a  little,  which  did  not  in  the  least 
disconcert  him.  He  said :  "This  is  the  very  best  the 
Deadwood  merchant  could  supply  and  I  was  mighty 
glad  to  get  it."  Then  the  incident  of  that  same 
correspondent  who  months  before  had  taken  the 
general  for  the  ''boss  of  a  mule  train,"  was  brought 
out,  for  this  same  newspaper  man  had  accompanied 
the  general  back  to  the  post  to  send  to  his  paper  the 
latest  news  of  the  Indian  war.  As  he  finished  his 
last  article  in  my  office  and  folded  the  papers  to 
take  to  the  telegraph  office  he  said : 

"When  I  go  back  east,  I'll  tell  a  few  of  these  news- 
paper striplings  that  out  west  when  you  are  looking 
for  a  man,  to  'look  him  in  the  eye  and  not  at  the 
clothes  he  wears.' " 


A  COWBOY  WEDDING. 

If  any  romance  can  be  attached  to  incidents  of 
mountain  life  with  one  to  five  feet  of  snow  on  the 
ground,  and  the  mercury  30  degrees  below  zero,  the 
following  is  deserving  of  a  place  among  romances. 

Charles  A.  Pollard  and  myself  owned  a  ranch  on 
Labonte  creek,  in  Wyoming,  beginning  at  its 
mouth  where  it  empties  into  the  Platte  river,  and 
extending  south  up  the  valley  nearly  five  miles.  Mr. 
Pollard  had  two  sons,  one  named  Percy  E.  All  his 
life  had  been  spent  on  the  Laramie  river  and  on  La- 


22  A  Cowboy  Wedding 

bonte  creek.  Taking  naturally  to  cattle  and  cow- 
boy life,  he  became  an  expert  horseman,  and  one  of 
the  very  best  cattle  men.  He  knew  every  brand  on 
the  range  for  a  hundred  miles  around,  as  well  as  he 
knew  his  own  name,  and  was  always  in  demand  by 
cattle  owners  as  one  of  the  experts  in  handling  both 
cattle  and  horses,  and  attended  all  the  round-ups 
of  the  season — and  yet  a  mere  boy. 

At  the  head  of  Horseshoe  creek,  up  near  Laramie 
peak,  was  a  little  saw  mill,  which  supplied  lumber 
to  settlers  building  ranch  houses  in  the  vicinity.  In 
the  course  of  time  the  *T.  C."  ranch  built  a  frame 
house  at  the  crossing  of  the  stream,  and  Percy,  with 
one  of  the  ranch  hands,  made  frequent  trips  up  to 
the  mill  in  the  mountains  for  lumber  and  logs.  The 
mill  owner,  a  Mr.  Austin,  with  his  family,  lived 
there  summer  and  winter  among  the  pine  trees.  The 
weather  was  always  severe  in  winter,  but  the  win- 
ter's snow  in  many  ways  facilitated  his  getting  out 
logs  and  hauling  them  to  the  mill  to  keep  it  running 
in  summer. 

The  daughter  of  the  owner  of  the  mill,  Miss 
Austin,  was  a  comely  mountain  girl,  endowed  with 
industrious  habits,  good  sense,  and  her  share  of 
good  looks — honest  and  loyal  to  the  core.  It  was 
not  long  until  Percy's  frequent  trips  to  the  mill  be- 
came of  so  much  interest  to  him  that  rain  or  shine 
he  was  always  ready  to  *'pull  for  the  mountains." 
The  trip  could  be  made  from  the  ranch  in  a  day, 
with  good  roads  and  pleasant  weather.  Coming 
down  with  a  load  of  logs  or  lumber,  the  wagon 
would  not  stand  up  under  the  load  without  the  brake 
and  "rough   locking"  the  wheels.     It  took  nearly 


A  Cowboy  Wedding  23 

two  days  to  come  down  with  a  load.  Percy  was 
counted  a  number  one  hand  with  a  team,  and  a  re- 
sourceful ingenuity  enabled  him  to  get  out  of  all 
sorts  of  scrapes  which  log  hauling  occasionally  got 
him  into. 

When  snow  came  in  the  mountains,  and  an  occa- 
sional thaw  on  the  Labonte,  the  roads  were  icy,  and 
even  rough-locking  the  wagon  wheels  would  not 
prevent  the  wagon  slipping  on  side  hills.  At  times 
the  cowboy  would  stay  in  the  mountain  saw  mill 
camp  over  night,  awaiting  more  favorable  roads  and 
weather.  As  the  days  shortened,  Percy  thought 
that  four  days  was  about  right  for  a  trip,  and  he  so 
planned  that  his  lay-overs  were  at  the  house  of  the 
sawyer.  Winter  was  now  on  in  earnest  and  it  was 
impossible  to  haul  logs  through  deep  snow.  There 
was  work  to  be  done  at  the  ranch — fences  to  fix, 
wood  to  chop,  cattle  to  be  fed.  Six  days  was  a  long 
week.  Every  Sunday  Percy  had  a  new  bronco  to 
break,  and  this  took  him  over  the  old  road  to  the 
saw  mill.  Monday  morning,  however,  always  found 
him  home  at  the  ranch  for  breakfast.  He  was  known 
by  all  the  cowboys  and  men  of  the  country  and  was 
well  liked,  always  lending  a  hand  to  every  one  he 
found  in  trouble  with  cattle,  horses,  etc.,  and  the 
boys  were  as  ready  to  do  him  a  turn. 

One  morning  he  got  out  of  bed  and  found  a  level 
foot  of  snow  on  the  ground,  and  the  snow  still  fall- 
ing, and  not  a  shod  horse  on  the  place. 

''Carrie,  let  me  ride  your  bay  mare  to  Douglas — 
I'll  be  back  tonight.  She  don't  ball  up  or  stumble 
like  the  broncos,"  Percy  called  to  his  sister  in  the 
next  room. 


24  A  Cowboy  Wedding 

''Not  going  to  town  in  this  storm,  are  you?" 

"Yep,"  Percy  answered,  and  with  Carrie's  con- 
sent he  was  off  to  saddle  the  mare.  Before  closing 
the  door,  he  called  back,  "If  I  bring  that  preacher 
back  with  me,  can  we  keep  him  a  couple  of  days?" 
And  he  did  not  wait  for  an  answer.  His  sister 
watched  him  swing  open  and  close  the  big  gate 
without  getting  down,  and  heard  the  clatter  of  hoofs 
as  he  crossed  over  the  bridge.  Then  she  began 
wondering  what  the  boy  had  on  his  mind. 

Late  at  night  he  came  stamping  into  the  house, 
having  fed  and  bedded  the  mare  down.  Then  they 
all  began  firing  questions  at  him  until  they  came 
too  close  to  the  "main  chance,"  and  he  unrolled  his 
bed  down  on  the  floor  near  the  big  wood  stove  and 
"turned  in."  As  a  last  answer  he  said,  "I  went  after 
the  preacher  and  some  of  the  boys  to  help  me  pack 
him  up  to  the  saw  mill."  People  in  that  vicinity  re- 
member that  at  that  time  all  the  roads  were  blocked 
with  snow  drifts,  and  the  ravines  filled  in  places  fifty 
feet  deep,  but  Percy  had  important  business  on  hand 
and  a  few  snow  drifts  would  not  stop  him.  The 
preacher  didn't  come  with  Percy,  but  would  come 
to  the  ranch  the  following  Thursday,  if  it  stopped 
snowing  and  the  trail  was  open  to  the  ranch. 

The  next  two  or  three  days  were  busy  times  with 
the  boy.  He  visited  five  or  six  ranches  and  got  sev- 
eral cowboys  to  agree  to  go  with  him  Wednesday 
and  bring  some  lead  horses  to  beat  a  trail  through 
the  drifts  to  the  saw  mill.  Two  or  three  pack  horses 
carried  the  rolls  of  bedding,  and  some  had  no  packs, 
and  Sister  Carrie's  bay  mare  had  an  empty  cowboy 
saddle  and  carried  no  load. 


I 


A  Cowboy  Wedding  25 

Wednesday  they  all  started  for  the  mountains 
Percy  having  left  word  at  home  to  keep  the  preacher 
there  until  he  came  back — "and  have  a  big  supper 
and  some  cake."  It  was  hard  work  walking  back 
and  forth  through  the  snow-drifts,  leading  and  rid- 
ing the  trail  until  it  was  made  passable. 

At  the  home  of  the  Austins,  the  young  woman 
and  her  mother  had  a  table  well  filled  with  such 
things  to  eat  as  could  be  found  in  a  house  in  the 
mountains,  which  has  been  snowed  in  for  over  two 
weeks.  The  meal  consisted  of  bacon,  bread  and 
canned  goods,  prepared  in  the  very  best  way.  The 
cowboys  unrolled  their  beds  and  bunked  on  the  floor 
after  supper.  The  next  morning  the  horses  were 
brought  up,  bundles  of  bedding  packed  on  with 
a  few  extra  bundles  the  horses  had  not  carried  up 
to  the  mill.  Then  Percy  told  the  young  lady,  ''That 
'preacher  is  a  tenderfoot,  and  we  could  not  get  him 
up  here,  but  if  he  had  come  I  would  have  lashed 
him  on  a  horse,  so  we  are  going  to  pack  you  down 
to  mother's  and  be  married  there,  if  the  preacher 
don't  go  back  on  us."  It  was  30  degrees  below  zero 
on  the  mountains.  A  sharp  wind  kept  the  snow 
flying.  Everybody  was  in  the  saddle.  Ropes  were 
fastened  from  the  bits  to  horses'  tails  to  keep  them 
in  line.  The  caravan  started,  Percy  bringing  up  the 
rear,  leading  behind  him  the  bay  mare  that  carried 
the  bride-to-be. 

They  all  reached  the  ranch  safely,  but  nearly 
frozen.  The  preacher  had  arrived,  and  the  marriage 
ceremony  was  performed.  Then  came  a  square 
meal.  The  preacher  and  the  boys  bunked  around 
on  the  floor  for  the  night. 


26  How  the  Buffalo  Disappeared 

The  next  morning  all  pulled  out  for  home,  the 
preacher  going  on  horseback  to  Douglas,  ten  dollars 
richer  than  when  he  came. 

The  next  day  Percy  was  around  at  his  work  as  if 
nothing  had  happened.  This  young  man  and  wife, 
with  their  little  family  of  children,  are  now  living  up 
in  North  Dakota  on  a  ranch.  Every  howling  bliz- 
zard that  comes  up  reminds  Percy  of  the  day  he  was 
married  on  the  Labonte. 


HOW  THE  BUFFALO  DISAPPEARED. 

You  would  scarcely  accuse  the  Secretary  of  the 
Interior  or  any  high  officer  of  the  government  of 
having  any  knowledge  whatever  of  the  sudden  dis- 
appearance of  the  buffalo.  As  long  as  they  roamed 
over  the  plains  it  was  an  impossibility  for  the  gov- 
ernment to  bring  the  tribes  of  wild  Indians  onto  a 
reservation,  where  they  could  go  every  thirty  days 
and  draw  live  beef,  flour,  sugar,  calico,  etc.  While 
no  officer  of  the  government  is  positively  known  as 
taking  part  in  ridding  the  country  of  buffalo  or 
winking  at  the  quick  destruction,  it  is  patent  that 
these  buffalo  roamed  on  the  reservations  and  no 
man  whether  Indian,  squaw  man,  white  man,  or 
half  breed,  was  ever  opposed  in  going  when  and 
where  he  chose  to  kill  them  for  their  hides  alone. 
When  their  hides  were  taken  to  the  Yellowstone 
river  and  piled  on  the  banks  in  piles  larger  than 
a  stern-wheel  steamboat,  they  sold  for  only  $1.00 
per  hide.  Steamboats  carried  them  to  St.  Louis 
where  they  were  shipped  to  the  tanneries  and  tanned 


How  the  Buffalo  Disappeared  27 

principally  for  collar  leather — the  very  lowest  grade 
of  leather  used.  When  tanned  they  brought  only 
$2.00  to  $3.00  each.  A  few  were  sent  to  Nova  Scotia 
in  hair  and  tanned  in  imitation  of  the  Indian  buffalo 
robe.  But  one  lot  sufficed.  No  one  but  an  Indian 
could  make  a  buifalo  robe  then. 

How  were  the  thousands  of  buffalo  killed  and 
their  hides  taken?  A  squaw  man  was  usually  the 
killer,  or  some  miserable,  lazy  white  man  hanging 
around  an  agency.  An  excuse  of  a  wagon,  three  or 
four  Indian  women,  five  or  six  of  the  very  poorest 
riding  ponies,  and  this  miserable,  lazy  white  man 
would  drive  to  where  a  large  herd  was  feeding. 
These  herds  could  be  found  after  the  spring  grass 
had  started  in  half  a  day  or  a  day's  travel. 

Generally  the  p^ain  was  flanked  by  a  range  of  low 
bluffs,  half  a  mile  to  a  mile  away  from  the  herd.  The 
squaw  man  with  an  eighteen-pound  Sharp's  rifle, 
sometimes  with  a  telescope  on,  the  cartridges  loaded 
with  120  grains  of  powder  and  a  fifty-calibre  bullet, 
fixed  amunition,  would  kill  at  a  mile.  The  hunter 
would  secrete  the  squaws  and  wagon.  With  a 
bucket  full  of  amunition  he  would  crawl  to  a  com- 
manding position  on  the  bluff,  hide  himself  behind 
soapweed,  sagebrush,  or  greasewood,  with  the  wind 
always  blowing  towards  him,  and  deliberately  fire 
away  into  the  herd  until  his  amunition  was  ex- 
hausted, and  being  far  away  the  buffalo  would  hear 
no  report.  Then  the  squaws  would  come  np  with 
ponies  and  wagon,  kill  all  the  cripples  that  could  not 
get  away,  and  after  the  slaughter  of  one  or  two  hun- 
dred animals  in  a  day,  three  or  four  days  would  be 
required  to  "skin  the  kill." 


28  California  Joe  — Who  Brought  in  the  Mule? 

This  is  how  the  buffalo  disappeared  so  suddenly. 
Only  a  year  or  two  before  they  roamed  over  the 
plains  in  countless  thousands. 

Today  there  is  scarcely  an  Indian  alive,  man,  wo- 
man, or  child,  that  does  not  go  to  an  agency  on  issue 
day  and  draw  all  the  rations  they  need  and  clothing 
for  all  and  the  buffalo  is  scarcely  missed,  even  by 
the  Indians. 


CALIFORNIA  JOE— WHO  BROUGHT  IN  THE 
MULE? 

While  the  United  States  troops  stationed  along 
the  Platte  river  near  Fort  Laramie  were  trying  to 
prevent  miners  from  going  into  the  Black  Hills  be- 
fore the  treaty  was  concluded,  a  motley  crowd  of 
pretended  miners  assembled  around  Fort  Laramie 
and  along  the  Platte  river,  intending  to  steal  across 
the  river  and  by  circuitous  routes  get  into  the  Hills, 
and  hide  in  the  forest  until  a  sufficient  number  of 
people  were  there  to  remain.  At  this  time  there 
were  hundreds  who  escaped  the  vigilance  of  the 
military. 

Among  the  number  a  somewhat  famous  and  ec- 
centric fellow  called  "California  Joe"  hovered  around 
the  post  for  several  days,  and  succeeded  in  picking 
up  an  ambulance  driver  by  the  name  of  Gray  as  a 
partner-^— miners  always  go  in  pairs. 

At  the  trader's  store  one  Saturday  night  they  pur- 
chased a  month's  supplies,  including  gold  pans, 
picks,  shovels,  gold  scales  and  quicksilver,  and 
loaded  them  on  a  pack  mule  in  the  enclosure  at 


California  Joe — Who  Brought  in  the  Mule?  29 

the  rear  of  the  store.  Just  about  as  they  were  leav- 
ing the  officer  of  the  day  came  up  and  inquired 
where  they  were  going.  "Over  on  the  Platte  to  trap 
beaver  and  wait  until  we  can  go  into  the  hills,"  was 
Joe's  reply.  This  being  a  reasonable  answer  they 
were  permitted  to  pass  the  guard  and  they  pulled 
out  across  the  sand  hills  and  went  in  camp  on  the 
Platte  about  two  miles  from  the  fort. 

Included  in  their  supplies  was  a  two  gallon  keg 
of  whiskey.  California  Joe  was  always  supplied 
with  money  from  some  source,  but  he  did  not  show 
the  disposition  to  "blow  it  in"  that  the  average 
western  man  does  when  reaching  a  point  where  he 
could  spend  it.  For  his  personal  use  he  purchased 
two  pair  of  trousers  and  a  pair  of  California  riveted 
overalls,  and  put  them  all  on,  also  three  woolen 
shirts  and  put  them  on  over  his  undershirts.  When 
one  became  soiled  he  would  pull  it  off  and  throw  it 
away.  Then  his  overshirt  appeared  clean.  As  it 
was  after  dark  when  they  reached  the  Platte  they 
turned  the  mule  out  to  graze  (the  mule  carried  their 
supplies,  they  expecting  to  walk)  ;  they  made  a  hasty 
meal  over  the  camp-fire,  unrolled  their  beds,  and 
tumbled  in  without  any  ceremony.  The  next  morn- 
ing the  mule  was  brought  in  and  fed  grain,  then 
picketed  out  to  grass ;  the  supplies  put  under  cover ; 
the  tent  put  up,  and  to  pass  away  the  time  a  deck  of 
cards  was  brought  out.  Later  in  the  day  the  keg  of 
whiskey  was  tapped.  The  game  of  cards  went  on 
until  towards  evening,  when  it  was  time  to  stir  up 
the  fire,  make  coffee,  boil  potatoes  and  fry  the  bacon. 
The  question  of  bringing  in  the  mule  came  up. 
Neither  of  them,  in  their  stupid  condition,  felt  like 


30  California  Joe — Who  Brought  in  the  Mule? 

doing  this,  although  the  mule  was  only  a  few  hun- 
dred yards  away.  Joe,  the  more  inebriated  of  the 
two,  insisted  on  his  partner,  Gray,  performing 
this  duty,  which  Gray  refused  to  do,  he  having  just 
prepared  supper.  The  argument  became  quite  warm 
and  ended  in  a  war  of  words.  Joe  finally  proposed 
to  Gray:  "I'll  tell  you  how  to  fix  this  thing;  we'll 
both  take  the  extractor  out  of  our  rifles,  put  in  one 
cartridge,  step  off  fifty  paces  and  each  fire  one  shot; 
the  one  then  able  to  go  after  the  mule  will  bring 
him  in,  or  leave  him  out  all  night."  Gray  agreed  to 
this,  for  in  this  way  he  could  find  out  the  disposi- 
tion of  his  new  partner,  which  he  must  do  sooner  or 
later.  The  rifles  were  loaded,  they  stood  back  to 
back  and  counted  off  twenty-five  paces  in  opposite 
directions.  At  a  given  signal  both  wheeled  and 
fired  a  shot.  Gray  was  hit  in  the  arm  and  fell.  Joe 
thinking  he  was  nearly  dead  and  having  failed  to 
take  the  extractor  from  his  gun,  put  in  another  cart- 
ridge, took  a  second  shot  at  Gray,  and  missed.  Drop- 
ping his  rifle  he  then  went  to  Gray's  assistance. 

At  this  time  a  boy  from  up  the  Platte  river  rode 
by  on  horseback,  going  to  the  fort.  Joe  called  to  him, 
but  the  boy  at  once  took  in  the  situation  and  did  not 
feel  like  going  to  them.  Joe  called  a  second  time ;  the 
boy  not  coming  up,  he  picked  up  his  rifle,  and  firing 
a  shot  ahead  of  the  boy,  he  said,  "I  guess  you'll 
come  now."  The  boy  immediately  rode  to  the  camp 
and  asked  what  was  wanted.  *'Go  over  to  the  fort 
and  tell  the  post  trader  that  California  Joe  has  shot 
his  partner  and  to  send  a  wagon  over  for  him."  The 
boy,  anxious  to  get  away,  rode  to  the  fort  in  hot 
haste. 


California  Joe —  Who  Brought  in  the  Mule?  31 

About  dark  the  lad  came  to  my  house  with  the 
message.  I  had  no  suitable  wagon  for  this  purpose, 
and  as  it  was  no  affair  of  the  military,  I  sent  the  boy 
up  the  Laramie  river  three  miles  to  Cuny  and 
Coffee's  ranch,  and  they  immediately  sent  a  wagon 
after  Gray,  and  took  Joe  along  with  them,  as  Cuny 
had  some  authority  as  a  deputy  sheriff.  Joe  mount- 
ed the  mule  and  on  the  road  over  left  the  crowd  to 
make  a  short  cut,  and  in  that  way  escaped. 

Gray's  wound  was  not  serious,  but  he  was  later 
brought  down  to  the  post  hospital  for  treatment  and 
soon  recovered  so  he  could  resume  his  former  occu- 
pation as  ambulance  driver,  and  accompanied  Major 
John  Furay's  wagon  train  up  in  the  hills,  where  later 
these  two  men  met  again  and  immediately  thought 
they  would  settles  old  scores.  This  time  Gray 
wounded  Joe,  and  when  the  cause  of  the  shooting 
was  known,  the  Major  turned  Joe  out  of  camp.  The 
next  heard  of  Joe,  he  was  over  at  Red  Cloud  agency, 
where  he  was  killed  in  an  affray  with  one  New- 
combe.  The  cause  of  this  fracas  was  that  Joe  had 
been  blamed  for  killing  old  man  Reshaw,  and  New- 
combe,  the  only  man  supposed  to  know  about  the 
affair,  might  later  expose  him,  so  he  undertook  to 
kill  Newcombe,  who  was  the  quicker  of  the  two, 
and  Joe  fell  dead  on  the  spot. 

California  Joe  was  a  hunter,  miner  and  scout  of 
some  note  in  the  mountain  country,  but  in  every 
way  unreliable  when  managing  an  affair  for  him- 
self. Colonel  W.  F.  Cody,  "Buffalo  Bill,"  knew 
him  on  the  plains  for  years  and  frequently  got  offi- 
cers of  some  command  to  employ  Joe,  for  in  that 
direction  he  was  quite  useful  and  was  usually  paid 


32  California  Joe —  Who  Brought  in  the  Mule? 

by  the  day  for  his  services.  He  was  thoroughly 
loyal  to  Cody,  and  was  often  of  great  assistance  in 
dividing  the  long  tedious  scouts  in  the  saddle.  Cody 
has  some  good  stories  to  tell  of  his  good-natured 
lying  propensities,  and  when  Cody  made  his  visit 
to  Omaha,  in  1905,  to  say  farewell  before  sailing  to 
Paris,  France,  to  make  his  last  season  in  the  Wild 
West  show,  he  told  me  some  amusing  things  about 
California  Joe. 

In  early  days  while  scouting  and  guiding  army 
troops  north  to  the  then  unknown  wilderness  of  the 
Big  Horn  country,  he  saw  a  typical  mountaineer 
coming  towards  the  command,  and  went  out  to  meet 
him.  When  within  the  sound  of  each  other's  voices 
their  salute  was— "Hello  Joe;"  "Hello  Bill."  Joe 
was  down  on  his  luck  and  a  picture  of  poverty, 
clothed  in  the  remnants  of  buckskin  shirt,  breeches 
and  moccasins,  with  a  well  worn  slouch  hat  through 
which  his  hair  protruded. 

"Outo'  luck?"  asked  Cody. 

"No!  just  striking  it,"  said  Joe. 

"Come  into  the  command  and  I  will  ask  the 
commanding  officer  to  pay  you  $4.00  a  day  for  your 
knowledge  of  the  country  we  are  going  through." 

Like  all  men  who  have  passed  the  meridian  of  life 
prospecting  the  mountains  for  gold — when  game 
was  scarce  and  provisions  short,  who  find  an  Indian 
camp  and  kill  buffalo  and  deer  and  elk  for  the  sim- 
ple reward  of  being  allowed  to  live  among  the  In- 
dians under  the  shelter  of  a  lodge  made  of  dressed 
elk  skin — Joe  had  become  "dreamy,"  talked  to  him- 
self, and  in  his  own  mind  thought  out  ways  of  lead- 


California  Joe — Who  Brought  in  the  Mule?         33 

ing  the  invaders  of  his  domain  into  illusions  of  won- 
derful discoveries  he  had  made. 

When  the  command  halted  at  night,  Joe  rode  in 
with  a  deer  behind  his  saddle,  and  as  he  unlashed 
the  carcass  and  let  it  fall  to  the  ground,  unsaddled 
his  pony  and  turned  him  loose,  he  called  "Bill"  to 
one  side  and  said : 

"We  are  just  over  the  crossing  not  half  an  hour's 
ride  off  the  trail.  Bring  the  Captain  and  we  three 
will  ride  over  when  camp's  broke." 

"What  have  you  struck?"  asked  Cody.  A  grunt 
was  the  only  response  and  no  more  information 
could  be  gotten  from  him. 

Early  next  morning  Joe  in  the  lead  and  the  Cap- 
tain and  Cody  following  side  by  side,  they  turned 
off  their  course  and  soon  came  to  a  mound  cov- 
ered with  boulders.  Joe  dismounted,  took  off  his 
well  worn  slouch  hat  and  stood  silent  a  few 
minutes.  In  the  earnest  reverence  the  Captain 
broke  the  silence  by  saying : 

"Well  Joe !  Whose  grave  is  this  and  what  do  you 
know  about  it?" 

"It's  a  long  story, — I  just  came  down  from  Lost 
Cabin  up  on  the  range,  'good  pardner,'  and  he  never 
kicked." 

"Now  let  him  alone.  Captain;  he  will  break  out 
when  he  is  ready,  and  all  h — 1  couldn't  get  another 
word  out  of  him  until  he  is  ready  to  talk,"  said  Cody. 

So  they  mounted  their  horses  and  rode  away  to 
overtake  the  troops  then  on  the  march.  The  Cap- 
tain's curiosity  was  aroused  and  he  rode  alongside 
of  Joe,  whom  the  warm  sun  soon  thawed  to  a  talk- 
ing mood. 


34  A  Man  With  Nerve 

A  MAN  WITH  NERVE. 

The  first  scramble  for  government  land  occurred 
in  southeastern  Wyoming  along  the  old  "  '49" 
wagon  trail  to  California  and  the  North  Platte  river 
west  of  Fort  Laramie.  The  emigrant  team^  were 
numerous  on  the  river  road,  with  "half  the  people 
going  west  and  the  others  coming  back."  As  in 
the  days  of  the  "  '49"  gold  seekers,  many  seemed  to 
have  no  particular  aim  in  life  other  than  going  and 
coming  and  following  the  crowd.  As  ranches  had 
many  years  before  been  located  in  all  the  valleys 
along  Jihe  streams,  according  to  the  custom  of  the 
cattlemen  in  those  days  all  the  lands  adjacent  to 
water  had  been  fenced.  Some  of  these  restless  peo- 
ple were  landseekers  and  had  been  told  that  very 
few  entries  of  land  had  been  made  according  to  law, 
and  to  secure  good  claims  all  they  had  to  do  was  to 
tear  down  the  fences,  camp  in  the  fields,  and  wait 
for  the  owners  to  buy  or  order  them  off.  My  part- 
ner, Mr.  Pollard,  and  myself  had  taken  up  under  the 
desert  act  1,800  acres  on  Labonte  creek.  The  old 
California  trail  had  passed  through  out  choicest 
grass  land.  We  had  several  miles  of  irrigating 
ditches  and  all  our  patented  lands  were  under  fence 
and  the  place  was  widely  known  as  "P.  C.  Road 
ranch."  The  many  arguments  and  discussions  Mr. 
Pollard  had  to  contend  with  and  settle  were  exceed- 
ingly annoying,  principally  growing  out  of  these 
restless  people  cutting  fences  and  camping  in  the 
fields.  What  little  hay  there  was  in  the  country 
was  valued  at  about  $100.00  per  ton,  and  these  in- 
truders were  doing  damage  to  the  grass  land. 


A  Man  With  Nerve  35 

Pollard  was  a  quiet  man  with  a  cast-iron  nerve, 
a  seeming  idle  brain,  but  he  never  lost  a  moment's 
time  in  looking  after  the  company's  property.  It 
was  a  dull  and  uninteresting  sunrise  that  did  not 
find  him  up  before  the  break  of  day  inspecting 
fences,  counting  his  cattle,  frequently  finding  one 
or  two  short, — killed  by  these  roamers.  Riding  up 
to  the  tents  of  the  intruders,  he  would  ask,  "Why 
don't  you  camp  outside  the  fence  or  go  on  to 
Wagonhound  creek,  or  to  the  Laporal  where  there 
is  plenty  unfenced  land?  You  are  on  patented  land 
and  you  better  move  oflf."  Pollard  never  carried  a 
"gun,"  or  made  a  "bluff."  There  was  something  in 
his  quiet  manner  and  his  big  grey  eyes  that  was 
rather  convincing,  but  quarreling  was  not  his  tac- 
tics. 

In  the  spring  time  the  Labonte  was  banks  full. 
This  being  the  time  of  travel,  it  was  no  small  task  to 
ford  the  streams  and  particularly  Labonte  creek.  A 
pair  of  black  stallions  had  been  pressed  into  his 
service  for  fording.  The  water  was  from  four  to  six 
feet  deep  and  running  like  a  torrent.  When  he  got 
a  good-sized  audience,  riding  one  stallion  and  lead- 
ing the  other,  right  under  the  eyes  of  the  disturbers, 
Pollard  would  ride  into  the  stream,  slide  back  over 
the  horse's  rump,  hold  on  to  his  tail  and  be  towed 
through  the  water  to  the  other  shore. 

Now  the  pilgrims  saw  what  they  had  to  en- 
counter. Crossing  back  Pollard  would  quietly  ride 
to  his  ranch  and  leave  the  pilgrims  to  find  out  what 
was  to  follow.  Then  half  a  dozen  would  follow  him 
to  the  house  and  begin  negotiations  for  helping 
them  over  the  crossing.    Here  is  where  Pollard  got 


36  The  Killing  of  Hunton 

in  his  work.  A  camper  would  call  out,  "Cap,  we'll 
move  out  today  if  you  help  us  across  the  stream." 
"I'll  cross  your  wagons  for  $5.00  apiece.  The  loose 
stock  can  swim,"  Pollard  would  reply.  Then  came 
an  interval  of  silence.  The  men  moved  off  to  camp 
with  a  worried  look  to  hold  a  counsel  as  to  what 
could  be  done.  Some  were  in  favor  of  camping  in 
the  field  until  the  stream  would  go  down.  This 
might  take  days  or  weeks  and  would  their  pro- 
visions hold  out?  At  the  Labonte  store  flour  was 
$15.00  a  bag,  canned  goods  $1.00  a  can.  If  this 
lasted  long  they  would  all  be  afoot,  so  that  in  the 
end  Pollard  had  not  been  bluffed.  But  they  paid 
him  $5.00  each  and  went  away  of  their  own  accord, 
instead  of  his  having  to  pay  them. 
The  only  weapon  he  used  was  sand. 

THE  KILLING  OF  HUNTON. 

James  Hunton  was  killed  by  Indians  in  the 
summer  of  1876  on  Chugwater  creek.  Returning 
from  the  east  I  left  Cheyenne  with  my  span  of 
bronco  horses  to  drive  to  Fort  Laramie.  The  road 
was  counted  safe  as  far  north  as  Kelly's  ranch  on 
Chugwater;  beyond  Kelly's  it  was  risky  to  drive  to 
Fort  Laramie.  Colonel  Townsend,  the  officer  com- 
manding the  fort,  left  Cheyenne  the  same  morning 
by  ambulance  and  as  far  as  Kelly's  we  kept  in  sight 
of  each  other  and  all  arrived  at  the  ranch  about  sun- 
down. Kelly's  was  about  half  way  between 
Cheyenne  and  Fort  Laramie — a  drive  of  forty-six 
to  forty-eight  miles.  The  next  morning  I  made  an 
early  start  and  soon  after  daylight  came  to  the  ranch 


The  Killing  of  Hunton  37 

kept  by  the  Hunton  brothers.  Here  the  Chugwater 
following  the  main  valley  turns  west  and  flows  into 
the  Laramie  river,  where  F.  M.  Phillips  established 
a  cattle  ranch,  about  nine  miles  west.  The  road  to 
the  post  ran  due  north.  During  the  night  there  was 
a  shower  of  rain  and  the  roads  were  a  little  muddy. 
As  I  drove  by  Hunton's  home  along  the  roadside, 
following  the  custom  of  the  country,  when  no  one  is 
in  sight,  I  shouted  a  greeting.  The  door  opened  at 
once  and  one  of  the  brothers  hailed  me,  and  came 
out  to  my  buggy.  He  said,  "Indians  came  to  our 
corral,  let  down  the  bars  and  drove  off  our  horse 
herd,  about  an  hour  ago.  We  were  just  getting  up 
and  heard  them  go  by,  but  thought  it  was  some 
ranchmen  with  a  herd  of  cow  horses.  A  little  later 
we  looked  out  and  saw  the  pasture  bars  were  down, 
you  can  see  the  tracks  of  the  whole  outfit  in  the  mud 
right  here.  Jim's  saddle  horse  was  in  the  barn  and 
he  saddled  up  and  took  his  pistol  and  started  on  the 
trail  leading  towards  Goshen  Hole.  His  horse  just- 
came  back  with  the  saddle  and  bridle  and  I'm  afraid 
the  Indians  have  got  Jim.  When  you  get  to  Fort 
Laramie  tell  the  officer  in  command,  and  ask  him 
to  send  a  sergeant  and  some  soldiers  towards 
Charley  Coffee's  ranch  and  perhaps  he  can  overtake 
them  before  they  reach  the  Platte  river." 

I  told  Hunton  the  commanding  officer  was  just 
behind  us,  and  I  would  wait  until  his  ambulance 
drove  up.  In  a  short  time  Colonel  Townsend  drove 
up  and  heard  the  news.  Turning  to  me  he  said: 
"Collins,  you  can  reach  the  post  quicker  than  we 
can.  Give  the  officer  in  command  my  compliments, 
and  tell  him  to  send  a  sergeant  and  twenty  men 


38  The  Killing  of  Hunton 

down  near  Coffee's  ranch,  in  the  Hole,  immediately 
and  look  out  for  a  party  of  thirteen  Indians,and  it 
possible  pick  up  the  trail  before  the  Indians  reach 
the  Platte  river."  It  was  thirty-one  miles  to  the 
post  from  Hunton's.  My  broncos  were  fresh,  and 
in  good  condition,  and  with  James  Smith,  a  colored 
man  who  accompanied  me,  (this  same  Smith  at  this 
writing  is  in  charge  of  one  of  General  Manager 
George  W.  Holdrege's  private  cars  in  Omaha)  I 
started. 

"Jog  'em  kind  of  slow  till  we  pass  Johnny  Owen*s 
ranch,  then  cut  'em  loose  and  we'll  make  it  in  two 
hours  sure,"  said  Jim.  When  I  pulled  up  on  the 
lines  the  horses  champed  the  bits,  shook  their  heads 
and  started  on  about  a  six-mile-an-hour  gait.  Soon 
their  speed  increased  and  they  whirled  along  over 
the  road,  faster  and  faster  as  they  limbered  up.  *'I 
believe  them  horses  know  there's  something  the 
matter,"  said  Jim,  and  from  their  actions,  you  would 
suppose  Jim  was  right.  We  passed  Owen's  ranch 
with  the  usual  salute  and  got  no  answer.  Soon  after 
we  were  over  one  of  the  sand  spots  and  on  a  gravel 
road,  as  smooth  as  a  turnpike.  Jim  was  in  his  ele- 
ment and  believed  no  other  team  in  the  country 
could  match  this  pair  over  a  smooth  road,  and  that 
was  the  opinion  all  the  ranchmen  along  the  road 
held.  We  were  now  in  a  somewhat  dangerous  In- 
dian country  ourselves.  The  roads  continued 
smooth,  and  improved  as  they  dried  on  the  surface. 
"Here's  where  we  make  time;  we  are  going  like  a 
railroad  train,"  said  Jim.  We  passed  the  six-mile 
ranch.  The  horses  were  in  a  foam  of  sweat,  but  the 
further   they   traveled   the    easier   they   seemed   to 


The  Killing  of  Hunton  39 

move — they  were  headed  towards  home.  We  plowed 
through  a  small  patch  of  sand  when  in  sight  of  the 
fort,  passed  the  "papoose  tree,"  and  as  we  turned  in 
to  cross  the  bridge  at  the  post,  I  looked  at  my  watch ; 
we  had  made  the  drive  of  thirty-one  miles  in  two 
hours  flat. 

As  we  crossed  the  bridge  and  drove  by  the 
quartermaster's  warehouses  we  met  the  officer  of 
the  day  and  told  him  the  news. 

The  papoose  tree  referred  to  was  a  big  box  elder 
that  stood  three  hundred  yards  from  and  opposite 
the  quarters  called  "Dobie  Row,"  its  branches  cover- 
ing a  space  of  at  least  seventy-five  feet  in  diameter. 
It  contained  no  less  than  forty  bodies  of  Indian 
children  wrapped  in  skins  and  robes,  and  lashed  to 
the  limbs  of  the  Iree  with  buffalo  thongs,  at  that 
time  the  mode  of  Indian  burial.* 

After  delivering  Colonel  Townsend's  message  to 
the  officer  of  the  day,  I  drove  to  the  headquarters 
and  repeated  it  to  the  officer  in  command. 

In  half  an  hour  Lieutenant  Allison  and  twenty 
men  were  galloping  across  the  Laramie  river  and  up 
Cherry  creek  over  the  Goshen  Hole  mesa  towards 
the  ranch  of  Charles  Coffee,  situated  about  twelve 
miles  from  the  Platte  river.  Meanwhile  Jim  h.ad 
rubbed  the  horses  down,  given  them  a  little  water, 
and  walked  them  around  to  cool  off  before  feeding. 
This  thirty-one  mile  drive  in  two  hours  was  con- 
sidered the  best  drive  known  in  the  country,  over 
that  end  of  the  road. 


•As  the  thongs  rotted  away  the  bundle  would  fall  to  the 
ground  and  the  coyotes  would  instantly  come  from  far  and 
near  and  tear  them  open.  Bones,  heads  and  various  trinkets 
were  scattered  on  the  ground  under  the  tree. 


40  The  Killing  of  Hunton 

Soon  after  we  left  Hunton's  ranch,  Little  Bat, 
Charles  Coffee,  John  Sparks,  and  two  or  three  other 
ranchmen,  came  to  Hunton's,  and  hearing  of  their 
fellow  ranchmen  being  in  peril,  they  immediately 
took  tip  the  trail.  After  following  it  nine  or  ten 
miles,  they  came  onto  the  body  of  Hunton,  dead 
and  scalped.  About  this  time  Lieutenant  Allison 
came  up  with  his  men  and  they  soon  returned  to  the 
fort.  Little  Bat  and  others  carried  the  body  on 
their  horse's  back  to  Hunton's  ranch  and  John 
Sparks,  now  governor  of  Nevada,  and  Charles 
Coffee,  at  this  time  an  extensive  cattle  owner,  and 
president  of  the  First  National  bank,  Chadron,  Ne- 
braska, continued  on  the  trail  several  miles  beyond 
where  the  body  was  found,  to  Coffee's  ranch.  No 
better  account  of  what  followed  can  be  given  than 
the  letter,  here  printed,  from  Charles  Coffee.  This 
letter  was  in  answer  to  my  request  of  an  account  of 
the  result  of  the  journey  of  Mr.  Sparks  and  himself, 
alone,  following  thirteen  Indians,  after  I  had  left 
the  Chugwater. 

The  troops  sent  from  Fort  Laramie  arrived  at  the 
point  where  the  body  was  found  about  the  time  the 
party  from  the  ranch  arrived,  and  knowing  the 
character  of  the  country  and  that  the  "dead  line" 
or  reservation  line  was  the  Platte  river,  upon  which 
they  had  no  right  to  encroach,  and  believing  the  In- 
dians would  cross  the  Platte  river  before  they  could 
overtake  them,  returned  to  Fort  Laramie  and  re- 
ported the  result  of  their  scout  to  Colonel  Town- 
send,  who  by  this  time  had  reached  the  post  and 
at  once  assumed  command. 


The  Killing  of  Hunton  41 

LETTER  OF  MR.  COFFEE 
Chadron,  Nebraska,  Sept.  3,  1904. 
Mr.  J.  S.  Collins, 

Omaha,  Neb. 
My  dear  old  friend : — 

Your  letter  is  just  at  hand  and  I  have  also  re- 
ceived your  book  which  I  know  will  be  interesting. 
You  asked  some  questions  about  the  killing  of  Jim 
Hunton  on  the  road  from  Cheyenne  to  Fort  Lara- 
mie. I  think  it  was  in  1876  near  my  ranch  on  Box 
Elder  creek.  I  had  been  out  hunting  the  day  before 
and  discovered  Indian  signs,  so  when  I  went  back 
to  the  ranch,  I  had  all  my  horses  put  in  corral  and 
put  up  a  tent  to  fool  the  Indians.  The  next  day 
''Little  Bat"  came  to  my  ranch  and  said  that  Hun- 
ton's  horse  was  close  to  the  ranch,  and  he  thought 
the  Indians  had  killed  Hunton.  I  had  come  from 
the  Laramie  road  the  evening  before.  John  Sparks, 
now  the  governor  of  Nevada,  was  with  me  at  my 
ranch  and  we  two  picked  out  a  couple  of  my  best 
saddle  horses  and  went  out  on  the  trail  and  found 
Jim's  body  within  a  half  mile,  and  we  then  took  up 
the  trail  of  the  Indians,  thinking  we  could  catch 
them  before  they  crossed  the  Platte  river,  as  the 
trail  grew  fresher  and  fresher  the  further  we  went. 
When  we  reached  the  hills  I  stopped  and  said  to 
Sparks,  "What  will  we  do  if  we  catch  the  Indians? 
There  are  thirteen  of  them  and  only  two  of  us."  We 
stopped  and  held  a  council  and  concluded  we  had 
lost  no  Indians  and  went  back  to  the  ranch.  If  we 
had  caught  up  with  them.  Sparks  would  not  now  be 
governor  of  Nevada,  neither  would  I  be  running  a 


42  Mosquitos 

bank  in  Chadron.  This  I  think  is  what  you  refer 
to  and  in  order  to  get  the  information  correct  I 
looked  over  some  of  my  old  books.  If  a  fellow  could 
think  of  all  that  happened  in  those  days  he  could 
make  some  good  reading  for  these  quiet  days,  but 
no  one  except  the  old-timers  like  you  and  I  would 
believe  such  things  to  be  true.         C.  F.  COFFEE. 


MOSQUITOS. 

The  steamer  "Cora"  rounded  up  to  the  west  bank 
of  the  Missouri  river  near  the  mouth  of  the  Judith 
to  take  on  wood.  All  the  passengers  were  at  supper. 
While  the  boat  was  in  motion  no  great  incon- 
venience was  experienced  from  mosquitoes.  When 
the  boat  landed  the  insects  came  on  board  by  the 
million.  Women  left  the  table,  rushed  to  their  state 
rooms  and  put  on  sunbonnets,  veils  and  gauntlet 
gloves  and  rushed  frantically  to  get  away.  There 
was  no  escaping  the  mosquitoes,  they  swarmed  on 
board  and  found  their  way  into  every  inch  of  space 
on  the  boat.  The  men  passengers  went  on  shore  to 
the  great  smudge  fires  burning  around  the  camp. 
The  "mud"  clerk  hurried  ashore  with  his  eight-foot 
measuring  stick,  laid  it  along  the  wood  pile  and 
shouted  back  to  the  mate : 

"Eight  cords  in  this  pile,  do  we  want  any  more?" 
The  deck  hands  hurried  ashore  and  in  less  than 
half  an  hour  had  the  eight  cords  on  board.  The 
owner  of  the  wood  yard  meanwhile  sauntered  into 
a  corral  with  two  yoke  of  cattle,  a  Springfield  rifle 
on  his  shoulder.  As  he  stepped  on  the  garfg  plank 
to  collect  his  pay  for  the  wood  I  was  saluted  with : 


Mosquitos  43 

"Hello,  Mr.  Collins ;  what  in  h — 1  are  you  doing  up 
in  this  God-forsaken  country?" 

The  man  was  about  seventy  years  old;  his  hair 
hung  down  over  his  neck  and  a  greasy  and  well 
worn  over  shirt,  whiskers  a  foot  long  and  a  mustache 
covered  his  face.  His  eyes  and  mouth,  almost  con- 
cealed with  hair,  he  was  a  degenerated  looking 
Santa  Claus.  The  corral  he  put  his  cattle  in  was 
built  of  logs  two  feet  in  diameter  and  forty  feet 
long.  The  bars  were  secured  with  heavy  log  chains. 
Inside  this  was  the  cabin  where  the  old  man  lived 
alone  and  between  the  continual  and  unceasing  at- 
tacks by  mosquitos  and  the  hourly  danger  that  In- 
dians would  come  in  and  raid  his  cabin  he  was 
worrying  through  a  miserable  existence,  seemingly 
not  caring  whether  he  lived  through  it  or  not.  He 
had  "gone  broke"  up  in  the  mines,  worked  his  way 
down  on  the  deck  of  a  steamboat  and,  with  a  part- 
ner, stopped  at  this  big  cottonwood  grove  where  he 
was  daily  in  sight  of  and  in  fear  of  hostiles.  His 
story  was : 

"Collins,  the  d — d  Injuns  won't  kill  me  as  long  as 
they  know  I  can  get  grub  from  a  steamboat  and 
divide  with  them." 

Of  course  I  was  curious  to  know  who  this  grizzled 
old  man  was  that  called  me  by  name  in  one  of  the 
most  uninviting  spots  I  had  ever  seen. 

He  had  once  driven  a  dray  in  Galena  for  our  busi- 
ness house ;  hauling  goods  from  our  store,  ten  years 
ago,  as  he  explained  it.  He  shipped  at  Omaha  with 
Captain  Tom  Townsend  for  Forf  Benton  and  the 
gold  mines.  He  said  to  me :  "  When  the  grub  gives 
out  I  will  try  and  be  out  of  the  country  and  save  my 


44  Scalped  by  the  Sioux 

scalp.  God  only  knows  why  I  should  try  to  save  it, 
and  perhaps  starve  later  on;  for  a  man  over  seventy 
with  not  a  dollar,  can't  expect  much  in  civilization." 


SCALPED  BY  THE  SIOUX. 

In  the  summer  of  1866  I  stood  in  my  store  on 
Douglas  street,  Omaha,  and  saw  one  of  our  then 
well  known  physicians,  long  since  dead,  drive  by  in 
a  buggy.  A  man  beside  him  was  wrapped  from  heaTi 
to  foot  in  a  white  sheet.  They  stopped  in  front  of 
the  Hamilton  house  on  Douglas  street,  a  small  brick 
hotel,  standing  where  now  is  the  Calumet  res- 
taurant. Following  a  small  crowd  I  saw  the  man  in 
the  sheet  taken  out  and  assisted  into  the  hotel.  He 
carried  a  bucket  of  water  and  in  it  floated  the  scalp 
of  the  man  who  carried  the  bucket.  Only  forty- 
eight  hours  before,  this  man,  Conductor  Crawford, 
was  running  a  freight  train  on  the  Union  Pacific 
road  near  Plumb  Creek,  Nebraska.  The  Indians,  in 
the  frenzy  of  committing  all  the  devilment  they 
could,  had  piled  railroad  ties  on  the  track  at  a  high 
embankment  and  the  first  freight  train  that  came 
along,  with  Crawford  in  charge,  was  thrown  down 
the  embankment.  The  engineer  and  fireman  escaped 
in  the  brush,  but  Crawford  was  caught,  and  left  for 
dead.  Hearing  the  whistle  of  another  engine  ap- 
proaching, and  in  their  ha^te  to  get  away,  the  scalp 
was  dropped  by  the  Indians.  A  little  later  Craw- 
ford regained  consciousness  and  on  his  way  out  of 
the  brush  came  onto  his  own  scalp.  He  picked  it  up 
and  hid  in  the  brush  until  night  came,  then  found 


The  Rattlesnake  45 

his  way  up  to  the  track  where  he  saw  the  engine 
that  came  to  inquire  the  cause  of  the  delay  of  the 
freight.  He  was  immediately  taken  to  the  nearest 
station  and  there  remained  until  an  eastbound  train 
came  along  and  brought  him  to  Omaha,  carrying 
with  him  his  own  scalp,  thinking  it  might  be  sewed 
back  onto  his  head.  At  the  Omaha  depot  he  was 
met  by  a  doctor  and,  as  above  stated,  taken  up  town 
where  he  remained  several  days.  Being  a  strong, 
healthy  man,  his  lacerated  head  soon  began  to  heal, 
but  the  scalp,  of  course,  could  not  be  replaced. 

At  this  writing,  1910,  this  scalp  hangs  in  a  glass 
case  in  the  Omaha  city  library  on  public  exhibition. 
Crawford,  the  owner  of  the  scalp,  was  recently 
known  to  be  a  conductor  of  a  passenger  train  in 
the  vicinity  of  Salt  Lake  City,  Utah,  in  good  health, 
following  his  old  business,  but  always  wearing  a 
skull  cap. 

This  is  one  of  the  incidents  of  the  building  of  the 
Union  Pacific  railroad.  The  scalp  is  now  owned  by 
a  physician  who  is  practicing  in  Omaha  today. 


THE  RATTLESNAKE. 

On  Broom  creek  south  of  Rawhide  buttes  I  was 
following  the  trail  of  a  blacktail  deer  one  morning 
before  breakfast.  I  saw  from  my  saddle  a  rattle- 
snake lying  along  the  trail.  Midway  its  length  was 
a  lump  as  large  as  a  baseball.  I  shot  the  snake  in 
two  and  with  a  forked  stick  pushed  out  a  fully 
g^own  meadow  lark.  Its  feathers  were  almost  dry 
and  the  snake  had  swallowed  the  bird  not  more 
than  half  an  hour  before  my  coming. 


46  How  Antelope  Kill  Snakes 

HOW  ANTELOPE  KILL  SNAKES. 

Wherever  antelope  range  there  are  rattlesnakes. 
I  have  often  seen  a  dozen  or  so  antelope  out  on  the 
open  range  cavorting  around.  They  do  not  take  to 
the  brush  or  timber  like  members  of  the  deer  family 
remaining  entirely  in  the  open  relying  upon  their 
fleetness  and  cunning  to  keep  them  out  of  harm's 
way.  They  bound  over  gullies  twenty  feet  in  width, 
but  a  wire  fence  eighteen  or  twenty  inches  high 
used  to  stop  them  as  they  do  not  jump  up  into  the 
air  like  other  quadrupeds. 

One  day  north  of  Fort  Laramie  several  miles  I 
saw  a  band  of  sixteen  antelope  a  mile  oflf  on  the 
plains.  They  appeared  to  be  bounding  upward  and 
altogether  acting  queerly.  Riding  over  to  where 
their  antics  had  been  carried  on  I  found  five  dead 
rattlesnakes,  all  cut  to  pieces.  The  antelope  had 
killed  the  snakes  by  bounding  upward  like  a  buck- 
ing horse,  bringing  their  sharp  hoofs  together  and 
so  landing  on  the  snakes,  which  was  probably  play 
to  the  antelope  but  death  to  the  snakes. 


JIM  BRIDGER. 

No  book  bearing  on  the  early  history  of  the  west 
within  the  last  fifty  years  is  complete  without  men- 
tion of  the  name  of  "Ji"^"  Bridger.  No  man  in  the 
west  was  better  able  to  judge  this  rough  old  moun- 
taineer than  General  G.  M.  Dodge  who,  during  the 
war  of  the  rebellion,  won  his  spurs  and  became  a 
major  general  in  the  United  States  army.     It  was 


Holding  up  a  U.  S.  Marshal  47 

Jim  Bridger  who  showed  General  Dodge  the  easy 
way  the  Union  Pacific  could  cross  the  continental 
divide.  General  Dodge  was  then  the  ''pathfinder" 
and  the  chief  engineer  of  the  road  until  reaching  the 
mountains.  All  the  old-timers  the  general  con- 
sulted about  this  difficult  task  said :  ''Send  for  old 
Jim  Bridger.  He  can  show  you  the  only  way."  And 
that  is  the  way  General  Dodge  came  to  know 
Bridger  so  well  and  he  relied  upon  his  judgment 
implicitly. 

General  Dodge  at  the  old  home  of  Bridger  erected 
a  monument  to  his  memory  paying  for  it  out  of  his 
private  funds. 

Back  in  1864  I  met  and  talked  with  Bridger  at 
old  Fort  Laramie,  Wyoming. 


HOLDING  UP  A  U.  S.  MARSHAL. 

During  the  early  travel  between  Cheyenne  and 
the  Black  Hills,  M.  T.  and  A.  S.  Patrick  ran  a  star 
route  stage  line  via  Fort  Laramie  to  Rawhide  buttes, 
Lance  and  Indian  creeks  and  Red  canyon.  No 
sooner  had  the  Indians  deserted  that  road,  where 
they  had  for  a  season  held  high  carnival,  killing 
men  and  women,  stealing  horses  and  mules  and 
making  it  the  most  dangerous  route  of  travel  in  the 
west  than  the  road  agents  organized  and  a  reign  of 
terror  followed  that  taxed  the  vigilance  of  the  own- 
ers of  the  stage  line,  the  military  and  all  the  people 
traveling  by  that  road,  beyond  their  ability  to  cope 
with.  Although  detectives  and  messengers  were 
constantly  on  the  road  and  succeeded  in  capturing, 


48  Holding  up  a  U.  5.  Marshal 

killing  and  hanging  a  number  of  the  robbers  the 
depredations  did  not  cease  for  many  months.  A 
United  States  marshal  located  at  Cheyenne  felt  it 
his  duty  to  take  notice  of  the  frequent  robbing  of 
the  mails.  Armed  with  a  new  Colt's  revolver,  an 
abundance  of  ammunition  and  a  few  threats  that  he 
would  put  a  stop  to  these  high-handed  outrages,  he 
took  passage  on  the  stage  from  Cheyenne,  arriving 
at  Fort  Laramie  the  next  day.  Being  so  near  the 
scene  of  action  he  considered  he  could  transact  his 
business  at  the  post  and  there  he  remained  two  or 
three  days  to  thoroughly  post  himself  on  the  situa- 
tion asking  no  advice  and  heeding  no  suggestions 
from  either  the  officers  of  the  post,  managers  of  the 
stage  line  who  suffered  more  from  the  robbing  of 
passengers  and  the  treasury  carried  by  them  than 
did  dozens  of  freight  and  emigrant  wagons,  and 
many  men  of  the  country.  After  remaining  two  or 
three  days  at  Fort  Laramie  he  took  the  down  stage 
back  to  Cheyenne  having  accomplished  nothing. 
Three  miles  out  was  a  small  swing  station  with  one 
of  the  stage  company  men  in  charge  of  a  stable  built 
of  log  slabs  and  any  lumber  that  could  be  had,  a 
corral  and  a  hay  yard.  Just  before  the  stage  reached 
this  station  the  driver  called  out  his  usual  salute 
to  the  stock  tender.  There  was  no  answer  and  as 
it  was  before  daylight  he  concluded  the  stock  tender 
was  asleep.  Just  before  reaching  there  one  of  a  gang 
of  robbers  stopped  the  coach  and  ordered  the  driver 
to  "hold  that  team  of  Jack  Rabbits,"  (six  small  gray 
mules)  or  there  would  be  trouble  for  him.  A  second 
robber  held  a  revolver  on  the  marshal  and  the 
passengers  in  the  coach  and  after  taking  the  mar- 


Holding  up  a  U.  S.  Marshal  49 

shal's  revolver  and  overcoat  away  from  him,  told 
him  to  shell  out  his  watch  and  loose  change  "d — d 
quick,"  which  the  marshal  proceeded  to  do  without 
remonstrance.  All  of  this  was  completed  in  a  brief 
space  of  time  and  the  driver  was  ordered  to  "move 
on  and  not  look  back." 

It  was  quite  apparent  that  a  United  States  mar- 
shal could  accomplish  no  more  in  the  Indian  coun- 
try where  road  agents  held  full  sway,  than  could  any 
other  ordinary  citizen  so  unfortunate  as  to  be  thrown 
in  their  way,  and  this  bit  of  adventure  furnished 
much  amusement  to  those  called  **the  men  of  the 
country."  A  gentleman  now  living  in  Omaha  may 
recall  this  incident  and  no  doubt  is  convinced  that 
robbers  do  not  respect  the  star  of  the  United  States 
marshal  any  more  than  they  do  a  stray  brand  of 
whisky  that  may  be  found  on  the  road. 

About  this  time  there  were  other  hold-ups,  but  the 
sufferers  were  not  boasting  that  they  nould  under- 
take to  regulate  the  robbers  and  put  an  end  to  all 
troubles,  as  did  the  more  sanguine  marshal,  who 
thought  he  might  quickly  end  the  trouble. 

At  Fort  Laramie  I  built  for  the  accomodation  of 
travelers  to  the  Black  Hills,  who  could  not  obtain 
meals  and  lodgings  elsewhere  at  the  post,  the  Rustic 
hotel.  There  was  a  very  good  cook  there  by  the 
name  of  Morrison,  whose  chief  fault  was  liquor.  At 
the  end  of  two  months  he  concluded  to  go  to  Denver 
and  visit  his  children.  The  stage  for  Cheyenne 
came  along  about  dusk.  Morrison  carried  his  earn- 
ings in  his  bootleg.  Among  other  passengers  in  the 
coach  were  two  women.  When  the  stage  arrived  at 
Eagles'  Nest,  (a  ranch  kept  by  Johnny  Owens)  and 


50  Holding  up  a  U.  S.  Marshal 

pulled  in  to  change  horses  at  this  swing  station,  the 
passengers  were  met  by  two  robbers  who  poked  re- 
volvers under  their  noses  and  ordered  them  to  plank 
down  their  valuables.  In  addition  to  this  they 
requested  the  women  to  take  down  their  hair  in 
which  they  found  a  few  diamonds  that  had  been 
concealed  there.  When  the  stage  had  changed 
horses,  Morrison  lay  over  to  take  the  coach  going 
back,  he  having  no  money  with  which  to  proceed  to 
Denver,  and  at  daylight  he  knocked  at  the  door  of 
the  Rustic  and  told  his  tale  of  woe. 

When  the  commanding  officer  heard  of  the  coach 
adventures  as  usual  he  ordered  out  twenty  men  to 
search  for  the  robbers.  They  found  a  trail  of  two 
unshod  horses  that  had  doubled  back  north  to  the 
Platte  river.  They  crossed  the  Platte  and  in  the  vi- 
cinity of  the  "4  P"  ranch  kept  by  one  Breckenridge, 
they  met  a  party  coming  west,  two  Chinamen  travel- 
ing with  them.  The  robbers  had  held  up  this  party 
and  gone  north. 


HUNTING  STORIES 

WILD  GOOSE  HUNTING  ON  THE  PLATTE  RIVER. 

When  General  Crook  had  finished  his  Indian  cam- 
paign of  76  and  returned  to  Omaha  to  announce  to 
the  people  that  the  Big  Horn  country  was  then  open 
to  safe  settlement,  and  told  of  the  nutritious  grasses, 
fine  mountain  streams  and  its  special  adaptability 
to  the  open  range  for  cattle,  he  was  to  enjoy  his  well 
earned  rest  and  to  continue  in  command  of  the  De- 
partment of  the  Platte,  with  headquarters  at  Omaha. 

There  were  voluminous  copies  and  reports  to  be 
made  to  the  War  Department  of  his  Indian  cam- 
paign. Notwithstanding  which,  while  he  could  not 
go  very  far  away  from  his  headquarters  for  any 
length  of  time,  he  could  not  overcome  his  fondness 
for  hunting  prairie  chicken,  quail,  snipe,  curlew, 
wild  geese  and  ducks,  squirrels,  coyote  and  wildcats, 
all  of  which  were  to  be  found  in  abundance  near 
Omaha  in  their  season. 

Among  his  many  journeys  to  the  Platte  river  (the 
half  way  station  for  wild  geese,  where  the  geese 
came  and  waited  in  great  numbers  in  spring  and  fall, 
between  their  southern  winter  quarters  and  their 
breeding  grounds  in  the  alkali  lakes  of  the  northern 
country,)  one  of  our  hunts  for  wild  geese  was  in  the 
winter  of  1881.  A  late  fall  and  warm  Indian  summer 
weather  had  kept  the  Platte  river  open  until  De- 
cember, then  came  a  cold  snap  that  froze  it  over  as 
tight  as  a  drum  head,  excepting  a  few  air  holes  and 


32  Wild  Goose  Hunting  on  the  Platte  River 

narrow,  swift  channels  that  always  remained  open 
the  entire  winter.  The  ice  buckled  up  and  cracked 
in  many  places  and  through  these  cracks  the  water 
oozed  up  and  spread  over  the  ice,  often  covering  a 
space  of  half  an  acre  one  to  four  inches  deep.  On 
this  trip.  General  Crook,  John  Petty  and  myself  were 
the  party,  and  we  took  the  Union  Pacific  train  for 
Central  City,  Nebraska.  There  a  team  awaited  us 
which  carried  us  down  near  the  river  to  the  old  log 
cabin  of  one  Tague,  who  had  come  out  from  Iowa 
wild  goose  hunting  twenty-five  years  before  to  settle 
and  make  a  new  home  in  Nebraska.  The  ages  of 
himself  and  wife  were  near  to  three  score  years  each, 
when  they  settled  on  this  homestead  claim.  They 
had  one  son  who,  at  the  date  of  our  visit,  was  about 
thirty  years  old.  When  the  family  settled  on  this 
farm  in  the  Platte  valley,  the  Indians  outnumbered 
the  white  settlers  about  ten  to  one,  and  as  the  old 
couple  recited  to  us  the  great  tax  of  trying  to  feed 
all  the  Indians  who  visited  them  to  beg  from  their 
meager  store — and  they  gave  all  they  could  to  keep 
on  friendly  terms — their  voices  trembled  and  their 
eyes  watered  as  they  told  us  of  their  sufferings.  The 
cabin  was  built  of  logs,  hewed  on  two  sides  with  an 
axe,  the  inside  and  outside  alike,  no  finish,  only 
chinked  and  daubed,  mud  being  used  instead  of  lime 
or  plaster.  There  were  three  home-made  bed  frames 
covered  with  well  stuffed  feather  beds,  of  feathers 
of  wild  geese  and  ducks  taken  along  the  river. 
These  were  partitioned  off  by  calico  curtains.  A  big 
cook  stove  answered  for  heating  the  whole  house, — 
as  there  was  but  one  room, — as  well  as  for  cooking. 
The  fuel  was  chiefly  corn  on  the  ear  and  corn  cobs. 


Wild  Goose  Hunting'  on  the  Platte  River  53 

Out  of  their  attempt  to  surround  the  cabin  with  a 
timber  grove,  only  a  few  cottonwood  trees  were 
scattered  about  the  unfenced  house  lot, — all  that 
were  left  from  the  numerous  prairie  fires. 

The  son,  who  at  meal  time  always  answered 
.promptly  to  the  name  of  "J^^k",  had  come  home 
ostensibly  to  visit,  but  as  a  fact  to  winter  on  the  old 
people.  He  told  us  the  occupation  he  had  followed 
several  years  was  that  of  a  "buffalo  skinner."  A 
white  man  could  fall  no  farther  down  the  ladder 
than  this  and  Jack  gave  evidence  of  having  reached 
the  bottom  rung.  He  was  lazy  and  talkative,  to  any 
one  who  would  listen  to  his  uninteresting  confab. 

The  nearest  neighbors  of  the  Tagues  were  three 
to  four  miles  away.  At  the  time  of  our  visit,  things 
had  considerably  ixnproved  with  them  over  their 
condition  in  former  years. 

The  next  morning  after  our  arrival,  we  carried  on 
our  backs,  bags  of  sheet  iron  duck  and  goose  decoys, 
(for  immense  flocks  of  mallard  ducks  remained  by 
the  river  all  winter,  and  fed  with  the  geese  in  the 
cornfields  of  the  bluffs  on  either  side,  roosting  on 
the  sand  bars) — overcoats,  hundreds  of  loaded  cart- 
ridges, besides  our  guns.  We  reached  the  river 
bank  a  mile  away  and  by  picking  our  way,  wading 
open  channels  and  avoiding  the  air  holes,  we  came 
to  a  sand  bar  where  droves  of  geese  had  made  their 
roosting  place  the  night  before  near  some  tow  heads 
about  a  mile  from  shore. 

The  weather  was  moderately  cool  and  hazy,  and 
had  every  appearance  of  being  a  good  goose  day. 
We  at  once  began  building  blinds  of  drift  wood 
found  along  the  bars,  and  willow  switches,  carried 


54  Wild  Goose  Hunting  on  the  Platte  River 

from  the  island.  To  find  a  suitable  place  for  goose 
blinds  it  is  necessary  to  be  on  the  sand  bars  at  day- 
light, in  sight  of  where  geese  can  be  seen  on  the 
bars.  Just  as  the  sun  begins  to  show  above  the  hori- 
zon, a  signal  "honk"  is  heard  and  taken  up  by  the 
geese  all  along  the  river.  At  once  their  flight  to  the 
feeding  ground  begins,  and  in  half  an  hour  not  a  sin- 
gle goose  remains  on  the  river.  Now  is  the  time  to 
locate  and  build  blinds  and  begin  placing  decoys. 
An  hour  or  two  later  the  geese  begin  to  fly  back 
from  the  fields  to  where  they  had  roosted,  and  if  the 
blinds  are  properly  located  and  completed,  the  de- 
coys placed,  and  everything  made  snug  out  of  sight, 
now  is  the  time  the  sport  begins  in  earnest.  Our 
blinds  were  just  completed,  all  the  decoys  properly 
placed  and  everything  appeared  favorable  for  a  fine 
day's  sport.  We  were  just  fully  prepared  when 
away  off  in  the  east  a  rumbling  rolling  sound  like 
distant  thunder  was  heard.  The  General  was  snug 
in  one  blind  and  Petty  and  I  in  another  not  one  hun- 
dred yards  away. 

"General,  I  don't  like  that  noise,"  said  Petty.  "I 
think  a  blizzard  is  coming,  and  we  better  gather  our 
traps  and  get  off  the  ice  right  away."  The  subject 
of  a  blizzard  was  discussed  for  a  moment,  when  the 
swishing  of  trees  was  heard  in  the  east,  and  the  roll- 
ing, rumbling  sound  came  nearer  and  louder.  We 
at  once  began  packing  up  decoys,  ammunition,  etc., 
to  leave  for  the  shore,  and  this  we  did  in  the  quickest 
time  possible.  The  air  was  full  of  sand  blown  from 
the  bars.  The  wind  suddenly  grew  colder  and  by 
the  time  everything  was  gathered  and  loaded  on  our 
backs  a  most  terrific  blizzard  and  snow  storm  striick 


Wild  Goose  Hunting  on  the  Platte  River  55 

us  and  the  air  was  so  dense  we  could  not  see  beyond 
our  noses.  We  had  the  direction  and  started  for  the 
north  shore;  it  was  agreed  we  all  three  should  stay 
together,  for  if  one  became  separated,  there  was 
great  danger  of  his  being  lost  in  the  storm  The 
wind  shifted  to  the  north  after  we  had  made  a  start 
and  it  was  almost  impossible  to  make  headway 
against  it  on  the  ice.  The  General's  hunting  hat 
blew  off  and  as  he  turned  round  to  catch  it  the  wind 
caught  his  big  canvas  overcoat  and  in  an  instant  he 
was  skated  away  from  us  and  out  of  sight. 

We  carried  our  heads  down,  braced  our  shoulders 
up  against  the  wind,  and  thinking  the  General  was 
just  behind  us,  we  kept  on.  Presently  Petty  asked 
if  the  General  was  coming,  and  said,  "I  am  going  to 
holler  for  him,"  and  he  let  go  two  or  three  yells 
louder  than  a  Comanche  Indian.  There  was  no  an- 
swer. He  yelled  again  but  no  answer  came.  If  we 
stopped  and  turned  around  the  wind  would  skate  us 
over  the  ice  and  out  of  sight  in  an  instant.  There 
was  nothing  to  do  but  brace  ourselves  against  it  and 
go  on  for  the  north  shore,  then  unload  and  go  back 
and  find  the  General.  Just  at  the  edge  of  the  shore 
there  was  an  open  channel  of  water,  in  we  plunged 
and  waded  through  to  the  bank.  In  an  instant  our 
clothing  was  frozen  stiff,  but  paying  no  heed  to  this 
we  stripped  ourselves  of  our  load  and  overcoats  and 
started  on  a  run  to  hunt  the  General.  Before  reach- 
ing him  the  wind  lulled,  the  snow  ceased,  and  when 
the  air  cleared  we  could  see  a  small  black 
speck  coming  from  behind  an  island  towards  the  op- 
posite shore,  a  mile  away  from  us.  We  made  all 
haste  over  the  smooth   ice,  through  the   slush   ice 


56  Wild  Goose  Hunting  on  the  Platte  River 

on  top,  and  open  seams,  toward  it.  I  was  the  first 
to  reach  the  object,  which  proved  to  be  the  General. 
He  was  so  benumbed  and  so  dazed  he  did  not  know 
us.  I  took  his  load  and  his  gun  and  tried  to  get  his 
great  canvas  coat  off  to  enable  him  to  walk  more 
easily,  but  it  could  not  be  unbuttoned.  When  he  had 
turned  to  catch  his  hat  and  left  us,  the  wind  had  car- 
ried it  into  open  water  nearly  six  inches  deep  and  as 
the  wind  caught  and  carried  him  over  the  smooth 
ice  into  the  water  he  picked  his  hat  up  half  full  of 
water  and  put  it  on  his  head.  The  water  ran  down 
and  froze  on  his  whiskers  and  coat  collar  and  the 
front  of  his  coat  to  his  knees  in  an  instant.  Petty 
soon  met  us.  The  General  could  not  speak.  In  half 
an  hour  had  he  been  alone  he  would  have  fallen  on 
the  ice  from  sheer  exhaustion  and  frozen  to  death. 
We  managed  to  reach  the  north  shore,  when  we  dis- 
covered that  his  nose,  face  and  ears  were  white  and 
frozen. 

Petty  on  one  side  and  I  on  the  other,  with  slush  ice 
and  snow  we  rubbed  the  frost  out,  and  as  the  color 
came  back  to  his  face  he  began  to  realize  his  situa- 
tion and  also  recognized  both  of  us.  "General,"  said 
Petty,  "our  goose  shoot  is  busted  for  today, — let's 
go  up  to  the  log  cabin."  "All  right,"  said  the  Gen- 
eral, and  with  one  of  us  on  each  side  to  assist  him, 
both  loaded  to  the  guards  with  all  of  our  hunting 
paraphernalia  strapped  about  us,  we  started  on  a 
long  and  tedious  walk  through  the  tangled  grass 
that  in  almost  every  rod  of  travel  one  of  us  would 
fall  headlong.  "This  sporting  life  is  h — 11,"  said 
Petty.    It  was  near  an  hour  before  we  reached  the 


Wild  Goose  Hunting  on  the  Platte  River  57 

log  cabin,    and    the   results   of    following   incident 
guided  me  in  what  to  do. 

At  one  time  when  I  sold  goods  in  Silver  Bow, 
Montana,  a  man  was  brought  to  my  store  in  the 
middle  of  a  clear  moonlight  night  on  a  horse  led  by 
another  man.  It  was  in  the  dead  of  winter  with 
the  mercury  thirty  degrees  below  zero.  When  I 
went  to  the  door  the  man  who  led  the  horse 
said,  "This  man  followed  the  stampede  to  Kootney 
river  mines  and  turned  back  with  me.  We  have 
waded  streams  and  rivers,  too  swift  to  freeze,  and 
we  almost  perished.  He  is  badly  frozen  but  told 
me,  when  we  turned  back,  to  lead  him  to  John 
Collins'  store  at  Silver  Bow."  We  took  him  into  my 
store,  built  of  logs,  that  was  only  chinked  and  not 
daubed,  and  took  off  his  wraps.  His  legs  were 
frozen  solid  to  his  knees,  his  arms  frozen  to  his 
elbows,  and  face  and  ears  frozen ;  he  was  dazed  and 
almost  unconscious.  We  cut  his  boots  open  to  get 
them  off,  ripped  up  his  coat  sleeves,  put  his  feet  in 
a  tub  of  cold  water,  rubbed  his  hands,  arms  and 
face  with  snow  until  the  frost  was  out;  then  I 
applied  coal  oil  out  of  a  lamp  (at  that  time  coal  oil 
was  scarce  and  selling  at  $5.00  per  gallon),  cut  open 
a  bed  comfort,  picked  the  cotton  out  and  spent  the 
balance  of  the  night  in  caring  for  him.  We  were 
successful  in  restoring  him  to  life.  When  the  morn- 
ing came  I  was  curious  to  know  who  in  that  far 
away  country  had  admonished  his  friend  that  if  he 
lived  to  reach  Silver  Bow  he  must  be  turned  over  to 
me,  as  the  one  and  only  man  he  thought  would  take 
care  of  him,  and  this  is  the  brief  story  he  told: 


58  Wild  Goose  Hunting  on  the  Platte  River 

"Don't  you  remember  when  I  used  to  drive  Cap- 
tain Smith  Harris'  carriage  in  Galena?  He  was  the 
captain  of  the  big  side  wheel  steamer  'Northern 
Belle.' " 

I  did  remember,  and  was  taught  a  lesson  then  and 
there,  that  on  the  occasion  referred  to  I  had  saved 
a  man's  life  with  coal  oil  and  cotton,  so  when  we 
had  the  General  back  to  the  Tagues'  cabin,  I  imme- 
diately asked  for  "coal  oil  and  cotton"  and  we  bound 
his  entire  face  and  head  in  coal  oil  and  cotton. 

It  was  the  third  day  after  that  that  the  General 
made  his  first  appearance  out  of  the  house,  and  was 
able  to  be  driven  to  the  depot. 

This  is  the  incident  referred  to  by  Major  John  G. 
Bourke,  in  his  book,  "On  the  Border  with  Crook," 
page  430. 

The  night  we  returned  to  the  cabin  after  the 
above  incident,  when  it  was  time  to  go  to  bed,  the 
General  and  myself  were  assigned  to  one  of  the  three 
beds.  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Tague  occupied  the  second,  and 
Petty  the  third.  "Jack"  the  "buffalo  skinner," 
bunked  down  on  the  floor  near  the  warm  stove  with 
plenty  of  buffalo  robes  over  him,  and  soon  we  were 
all  asleep.  About  five  in  the  morning,  the  old  man 
called  to  Jack  and  said,  "Get  up  and  build  the  fire ;" 
there  was  no  answer ;  he  called  again  and  again,  and 
no  answer;  Jack  had  evidently  forgotten  his  name. 
"Gol  darn  you  Jack,  if  you  don't  get  up  and  build 
that  'er  fire,  I'll  get  up  and  build  it  myself,"  said 
the  old  man.  I  called  to  Petty ;  he  was  sound  asleep. 
I  rolled  over  and  nudged  the  General,  he  was  wide 
awake,  and  heard  all  the  conversation,  which  we 
both  enjoyed. 


Wild  Goose  Hunting  on  the  Platre  River  59 

As  a  hunter  of  wild  game  on  the  Platte  river  I  can 
safely  say  there  is  no  hunting  in  the  west  in  which 
the  hunter  encounters  more  peril  than  that  of  prop- 
erly and  systematically  hunting  wild  geese  on  the 
Platte  river,  with  all  things  to  do  that  will  insure 
success.  In  the  spring  birds  come  in  great  numbers 
when  the  Platte  is  still  frozen.  This  is  also  the 
time  of  a  rush  of  waters  from  the  mountains.  I  have 
been  on  the  ice  snugly  ensconced  in  a  blind  with 
hunting  companions  and  heard  the  signal,  a  sound 
like  the  roar  of  a  cannon,  when  the  increasing  flood 
would  break  through  the  ice  and  spout  water  up  ten 
feet  in  the  air,  and  the  increasing  torrent  almost 
equal  to  a  Johnstown  flood,  would  cover  the  ice 
with  from  six  inches  to  a  foot  of  water  in  a  short 
space  of  time.  The  open  channels  would  raise 
twelve  to  twenty  inches  in  less  than  half  an  hour. 
Then  is  the  time  of  danger  in  getting  back  to  shore. 
A  goose  hunter  will  take  more  desperate  chances 
than  a  hunter  of  any  other  game — not  even  except- 
ing a  bear  hunter.  To  their  credit  be  it  said  goose 
hunters  on  the  Platte  were  generally  equal  to  the 
emergency  and  few  losses  of  life  have  been  recorded 
to  my  knowledge. 

One  of  our  successful  hunts  on  the  Platte  river 
was  when  General  Crook,  John  Petty  and  myself 
made  a  trip  southwest  of  Papillion,  with  the  Gen- 
eral's big  spring  wagon,  four  mules  and  a  two-mule 
army  wagon  with  tents,  provisions,  help  and  a  cook. 
We  arrived  on  the  bank  of  the  Platte  soon  after 
noon.  While  the  men  were  putting  up  the  tent  and 
getting  camp  in  order  for  supper  we  three  strolled 
along  the  shore  looking  for  sandbars  that  could  be 


60  Wild  Goose  Hunting  on  the  Platte  River 

reached  by  wading,  we  having  no  boat  with  us  on 
the  trip.  The  bars  were  entirely  bare  of  birds  as  the 
geese  were  all  out  in  the  corn  fields  feeding.  It  was 
in  March  and  nearly  all  the  ice  had  gone  out  of  the 
river.  The  day  was  fair  and  no  wind.  There  were 
a  few  flocks  of  "Hutchins,"  with  occasionally  a  flock 
of  "White  Fronts"  flying  up  and  down  the  river 
warily,  but  none  came  down  to  our  decoys.  All  we 
expected  to  accomplish  was  to  find  the  bars  the 
geese  would  come  to  roost  on  when  they  began 
flying  in  from  the  fields  later  in  the  day  and  possibly 
get  under  the  flight  coming  in.  The  afternoon  was 
spent  in  prospecting. 

We  succeeded  in  locating  a  bar  where  great  flocks 
of  geese  came  to  roost  within  a  mile  of  where  our 
tent  was  pitched.  When  morning  came,  all  of  our 
decoys  made  of  sheet  iron  and  painted,  and  mallard 
decoys,  had  been  carried  to  the  bank  opposite  the 
bar  when  the  geese  came  to  roost.  We  had  a  warm 
breakfast  an  hour  before  daylight.  The  wind  was 
in  the  northeast  and  at  the  signal  "honk"  all  the 
geese  along  the  river  arose  and  began  their  flight  to 
the  cornfields  on  the  south  shore.  They  were  as 
plenty  as  pigeons  in  the  early  days.  We  got  no 
shooting  from  the  morning  flight  out.  Now  was  the 
time  to  make  all  preparations  for  their  return  from 
morning  feeding.  As  the  day  became  cloudy  the 
flight  began  earlier  than  it  would  had  the  sun  shone. 

All  hands  gathered  the  guns,  ammunition,  decoys, 
overcoats  and  lunch  and  waded  into  the  river,  pick- 
ing our  way  through  the  shallow  places.  Arriving 
at  the  roosting  ground  we  dropped  our  loads  and 
began  gathering  pieces  of  drift  wood  from  the  bars 


Indian  Sympathy  61 

and  bringing  in  from  the  tow  heads  brush  and 
willows  with  which  to  build  "blinds."  This  being 
finished  the  goose  and  duck  decoys  were  then  prop- 
erly placed  the  flat  side  towards  the  south.  We  had 
scarcely  got  everything  in  shape  and  the  hunters  in 
their  blinds  than  the  flocks  began  appearing  in  the 
south.  The  first  was  a  flock  of  Canadas,  that  came 
over  Petty's  blind  and  were  just  ready  to  alight 
among  his  decoys  when  two  shots  from  his  ten  bore 
Parker  dropped  five  of  them  right  among  his  decoys. 


INDIAN  SYMPATHY. 

General  Hatch,  the  commanding  officer  of  Fort 
Robinson,  Nebraska,  who  was  in  camp  near  Ante- 
lope Springs,  north  of  Casper,  Wyoming,  wired 
me: 

''Collins :  send  for  your  friend  Hayes  and  join  me. 
We  have  Bat  and  Indian  guides,  pack  and  saddle 
mules,  and  we  are  in  the  heart  of  a  good  game 
country." 

I  sent  a  telegram  to  Hayes  who  started  immedi- 
ately for  Omaha.  W.  F.  Fitch  was  going  up  that 
way  in  his  private  car  to  show  his  successor,  Mr. 
Horace  G.  Burt,  over  the  road  and  we  joined  them 
at  Omaha.  Mr.  Fitch  took  his  car  up  beyond  Cas- 
per, the  end  of  the  road.  The  General  had  sent  an 
ambulance  from  his  camp  fifty  miles  to  meet  us 
and  carry  us  to  a  landmark  called  "Teapot,"  where 
we  arrived  about  dark. 

The  day  before  had  been  full  of  adventures  for 
the  hunters  in  camp.     Two  or  three  grizzly  bears 


62  Indian  Sympathy 

had  been  killed,  deer  and  antelope  were  abundant 
and  occasionally  a  band  of  elk  was  seen.  The  day 
before  our  arrival  Bat  had  killed  a  bear  and  near  a 
springy  place  on  the  mountain  side  had  seen  the 
fresh  footprint  of  a  bear  of  greater  size  which  inter- 
ested him  greatly.  The  next  morning  a  party  of 
six  of  us,  including  Bat  and  the  Indians  Red  Bear 
and  Red  Sack,  packed  a  mule  with  our  supplies  and 
bedding  and  started  over  the  mountain  to  be  out  all 
night  and  sleep  in  the  open  air.  I  was  paired  with 
Bat  and  a  lively  chase  I  had  keeping  up  with  him 
over  the  mountains  and  through  the  canyons.  We 
passed  the  carcas  of  the  bear  he  had  killed  the  day 
before  from  which  he  had  taken  the  hide  only.  We 
were  on  foot  the  principal  part  of  the  day  and 
towards  dusk  we  climbed  to  the  top  of  a  steep 
mountain  where  we  could 'view  the  country  for 
miles  around  to  see  if  we  could  get  a  glimpse  of  the 
big  bear  out  feeding.  The  wind  blew  a  gale  on  the 
high  mountain  and  we  found  a  shelter  behind  a 
bunch  of  rocks  where  we  waited  until  dark,  but  saw 
no  sign  of  a  bear.  It  was  rough  traveling  in  the 
dark,  back  over  the  rocks  and  through  the  timber 
to  where  our  mules  were  tied,  but  Bat,  as  usual, 
went  straight  to  the  mules.  We  then  had  a  three- 
mile  ride  to  the  camp  where  we  found  the  party 
with  a  camp  fire. 

The  next  morning  Red  Bear  and  I  decided  to 
make  a  tour  north  among  the  rocky  ledges  on  our 
return  to  the  main  camp.  We  soon  came  to  a  gorge 
fully  two  thousand  feet  deep.  At  the  top  was  a  rim 
of  rocks  projecting  over  from  under  which  we 
scared  out  eagles  every  few  hundred  yards.    A  more 


Indian  Sympathy  63 

desolate  place  or  one  better  adapted  for  that  kind  of 
a  bird  to  roost  or  nest  could  not  be  imagined.  It 
was  about  noon  when  we  reached  the  mouth  of  the 
gorge  where  we  found  our  way  down  to  a  stream 
and  unsaddled  for  lunch.  About  three  hundred 
yards  away  two  deer  jumped  from  their  beds  just 
across  the  creek  and  stood  looking  at  us  while  we 
got  under  cover  to  approach  them.  At  a  hundred 
yards  I  had  a  fine  shot  and  killed  a  magnificent  fat 
young  buck.  The  interesting  part  of  this  kill  was  to 
see  Red  Bear  "strip"  the  deer  and  prepare  it  for 
easy  carrying  behind  his  saddle,  for  we  had  a  long 
ride  to  camp.  First  he  cut  the  head  oflf  near  the 
shoulder,  took  out  the  intestines,  and  then  the  liver 
which  he  ate  raw,  as  is  the  Indian  custom,  then  he 
skinned  the  deer,  stripping  the  meat  from  leg  bones 
and  ribs,  saving  the  loin  and  in  fact  all  of  the  meat 
without  an  ounce  of  bone  left,  wrapped  all  of  it  in 
the  hide,  tied  it  behind  his  saddle  with  two  buck- 
skin strings  and  the  whole  roll  as  packed  would  not 
have  weighed  to  exceed  thirty  pounds,  while  the 
deer  alive  would  weigh  one  hundred. 

After  dressing  the  deer  and  eating  lunch  we 
turned  south  over  a  low  divide  and  dropped  into  a 
low  narrow  valley  of  ''bad  lands."  There  was  no 
w^ater  on  either  side,  the  valley  sloped  up  to  high, 
sharp  ridges  and  the  narrow  dark  lines  showed  the 
eflfect  of  rain  on  the  ashy  earth.  The  gullies  leading 
to  larger  ones  below  were  from  two  or  three  inches 
to  three  feet  wide,  some  of  them  so  deep  a  horse 
could  be  lost  in  them.  Our  horses  were  kept  con- 
stantly jumping  to  clear  them  and  occasionally  as 
their  hind  feet  would  clear  the  opposite  bank  the 


64  Indian  Sympathy 

earth  would  give  way  and  both  hind  legs  would  drop 
in.  To  go  lower  down  the  valley  the  gullies  would 
be  wider  and  deeper ;  to  go  higher  up  they  were  more 
numerous  and  would  take  us  out  of  our  course,  so  the 
Indian  chose  a  middle  trail.  The  further  we  rode 
towards  camp  the  more  difficult  it  became  and  more 
care  was  necessary  in  clearing  chasms.  The  Indian 
stopped  to  adjust  his  pack  while  I  rode  on,  placing 
me  nearly  a  hundred  yards  in  the  lead.  The  gullies 
kept  our  horses  constantly  on  the  jump.  Coming 
to  one  about  three  feet  wide  I  spurred  my  horse  and 
he  fell  on  his  side  and  shoulder  with  my  leg  under 
him  to  the*  knee  and  I  had  no  little  difficulty  in  dis- 
mounting and  pulling  my  horse  out  of  the  gulley. 
Red  Bear  came  up  and  with  one  look  of  disgust  and 
an  angry  grunt  he  "heeled"  his  horse  and  urging 
him  on,  rode  away  as  fast  as  possible,  not  knowing, 
and  what  was  more  not  caring,  whether  or  not  my 
leg  was  broken  or  whether  I  could  get  out  of  this 
dilemma  and  reach  camp.  I  was  then  obliged  to 
ride  at  a  slow  pace.  Finally  the  Indian  was  out  of 
sight,  having  never  looked  back.  Had  the  ground 
been  hard  the  least  that  would  have  befallen  me 
was  a  broken  arm  or  leg  in  either  case  the  Indian 
would  have  given  me  no  assistance.  It  was  dark 
when  we  reached  camp  and  all  the  hunters  were  in, 
some  with  a  deer  or  antelope  behind  their  saddle 
and  some  with  no  game  except  an  eagle  killed  on 
their  way  in. 


Lost  Near  Camp  65 

LOST  NEAR  CAMP. 

On  one  of  our  fall  hunts  to  the  Salt  Creek  country, 
Captain  Patrick  Henry  Ray  was  in  charge  of  the 
government  transportation  train  that  carried  us 
down  to  where  we  first  struck  the  creek  and  there 
we  camped  two  days.  Captain  Ray  was  one  of  the 
sturdy  army  officers  who  was  sent  into  the  Arctic 
regions  in  search  of  General  Greely  and  party,  and 
who  found  them.  Later  he  came  to  Omaha  and  was 
judge  advocate  on  General  Crook's  staff.  Besides 
Captain  Ray,  the  other  hunters  of  the  party  were 
A.  S.  Patrick,  Webb  Hayes  and  myself  with  Little 
Bat  and  another  halfbreed  Sioux,  named  Alex  Mou- 
seau,  as  guides.  On  this  trip  ten  colored  troopers 
from  Fort  Robinson  were  our  assistants. 

Some  amusing  incidents  occurred  on  this  trip. 
From  our  first  camp,  not  finding  game  plentiful,  we 
moved  down  below  to  our  old  land-mark  which  we 
had  named  "Pack  Saddle  Rock,"  because  of  its  re- 
semblance to  a  pack  saddle.  It  stood  out  clear-cut 
away  from  the  other  rocks  and  could  be  seen  from 
almost  any  direction  for  a  distance  of  three  or  four 
miles.  As  our  camp  was  usually  made  in  the  creek 
bottom  among  the  scattering  trees,  obscured  by 
precipitous  sheltering  bluffs,  the  hunters  returning 
were  always  on  the  lookout  for  this  rock. 

Webb  Hayes  was  somewhat  handicapped  by  be- 
ing a  little  nearsighted  and  we  insisted  on  some  one 
always  accompanying  him.  Alex  Mouseau  was  his 
companion  on  this  day's  hunt.  With  a  liberal  sup- 
ply of  lunch  in  their  saddle  pockets,  plenty  of  ammu- 
nition and  their  rifles,  after  announcing  their  route, 
they  started  out  soon  after  daylight  for  deer. 


66  Lost  Near  Camp 

Hayes,  depending  wholly  on  his  guide,  Alex, 
found  himself  at  dark  five  miles  from  camp.  After 
being  in  the  saddle  all  day  and  the  guide  not  being- 
very  communicative,  about  dusk  it  became  a  very 
lonely  ride.  They,  however,  kept  on  a  course  that 
Hayes  was  willing  to  go  and  as  dark  came  on  the 
sage  brush  appearing  to  grow  thicker  and  more 
difficult  to  get  through,  he  gave  his  horse  his  head 
to  follow  his  guide.  A  two  hours'  ride  brought 
them  in  sight  of  a  moving  light,  then  another  light, 
the  latter  being  stationary.  Alex  could  not  account 
for  these  lights  on  the  high  flat,  when  he  knew  the 
camp  was  down  fifty  feet  under  a  cut  bank,  where 
no  light  could  be  seen  from  higher  land.  They 
stopped  and  held  a  council.  Hayes  could  plainly 
see  the  superstition  of  the  guide  who  thought  the 
moving  light  was  guided  by  some  spirit  agency  that 
taxed  his  courage. 

"We  are  near  camp,  but  we  must  keep  away  from 
those  lights ;  they  are  what  you  call  'spooks,'  "  said 
Alex,  and  for  fully  an  hour  Hayes  was  compelled 
to  follow  the  superstitious  guide. 

Captain  Ray  had  sent  half  a  dozen  soldiers  with 
all  the  wood  they  could  carry  on  their  backs,  out 
on  the  sage  brush  flat  above  camp  to  build  a  signal 
fire.  The  night  was  dark  and  a  lantern  was  neces- 
sary to  guide  the  party  so  they  could  select  a  promi- 
nent place  to  build  a  fire  that  could  be  seen  by  be- 
lated hunters.  These  were  the  lights  seen  by  Alex 
that  he  could  not  account  for.  Had  it  not  been  that 
the  men  keeping  the  fire  up  had  fired  three  signal 
shots  they  might  have  wandered  about  all  night  half 
a  mile  from  camp.     Hayes  understood  the  signal, 


i 


Hunting  Big-  Game — Leaving  Fort  Fetterman. 


iluntiny;-  iiig  Game — '•Bunched   uj)  "   on   the   liuad. 


Hunting  Big  Game — Crossing  the  Platte. 


Lost  Near  Camp  67 

took  the  lead  and  in  twenty  minutes  they  were  safe 
in  camp. 

It  was  eleven  o'clock  when  they  sat  down  to 
supper  in  the  cook  tent  and  we  were  all  up  and 
waiting  for  an  account  of  their  adventures.  Alex 
seemed  inclined  to  shirk  all  responsibility  and  lay 
the  blame  on  Hayes  for  being  lost  within  half  a  mile 
of  camp  and  as  they  sat  at  the  table  recounting  the 
adventures  of  the  day  and  finished  up  on  the  delay 
of  coming  into  camp,  Alex  said : 

"I  was  all  right;  if  I  had  somebody  along  but  a 
tenderfoot  who  couldn't  help  any  we'd  have  been 
in  two  hours  ago." 

The  next  night  it  was  necessary  to  send  men  on 
the  flat  again  to  build  a  fire  and  fire  signal  shots. 
Nine  o'clock  had  come  and  Captain  Ray  had  not 
come  in.  This  did  not  greatly  concern  the  party,  he 
being  an  old  campaigner  who  had  served  years  In 
the  army  besides  having  journeyed  through  Alaska, 
the  frozen  polar  seas  and  about  as  near  to  the  north 
pole  as  any  living  man  had  approached  it,  in  search 
of  Greely's  party.  So  it  was  natural  that  we  paid 
little  heed  to  the  belated  captain,  except  that  it  was 
a  custom  that  no  hunter  would  turn  into  his  bed 
until  everybody  was  in  camp.  Darkness  came.  Nine, 
ten  and  eleven  o'clock.  The  fire  was  burning  above 
the  bank,  three  volleys  of  signal  shots  had  been 
fired  and  yet  no  answer.  It  was  concluded  the  cap- 
tain had  followed  some  game  he  had  wounded  and 
when  night  came  had  picketed  his  horse  out,  lying 
down  on  the  pine  needles  and  had  gone  to  sleep — 
the  natural  thing  for  a  man  lost  in  the  mountains 


68  In  the  Sand  Dunes 

to   do.     When   midnight   came    the   soldiers   were 
called  in  and  we  all  went  to  bed. 

An  hour  before  daylight  Captain  Ray  came  into 
camp,  brisk  and  lively  and  at  once  recounted  his 
wounding  a  black  tail  deer  that  he  had  followed 
until  dark.  He  frankly  acknowledged  that  as  he 
had  no  idea  where  camp  was  when  dark  came  he 
concluded  to  unsaddle.  He  picketed  out  his  horse 
and  between  the  trunks  of  two  trees  he  made  a  fire 
and  lay  down  between  them — less  than  three  miles 
from  camp. 


IN  THE  SAND  DUNES. 

Twenty-five  miles  north  of  Casper,  Wyoming,  is 
Sand  Spring  in  the  heart  of  the  sand  hills  and  the 
"sand  dunes."  Going  towards  Salt  creek  we  passed 
a  dry  alkali  lake  on  the  high  mesa.  After  a  gradual 
ascent  our  trail  led  into  a  low  sag  that  in  a  few  miles 
opened  out  into  a  narrow  valley  carpeted  with  wet, 
sour  grass,  indicating  water  here  and  there.  By 
digging  down  a  foot  or  two  an  abundance  of  alkali 
water  could  be  had  which,  in  a  way,  supplied 
campers. 

We  followed  up  this  ravine  four  or  five  miles  and 
found  occasional  pools  of  water — being  in  the  sand 
hills  there  were  no  running  streams.  Just  south  of 
where  we  camped  we  passed  over  a  long  grade  of 
sand  running  east  and  west  from  one  bluflf  to  an- 
other, a  distance  of  over  three  hundred  yards.  It  was 
as  regular  in  width  and  as  level  on  top  as  a  railroad 
grade  and  from  twelve  to  twenty  feet  high,  complete- 


In  the  Sand  Dunes  69 

ly  damming  the  stream.  Above  it  a  lake  had  formed 
of  several  acres.  On  its  west  banks  were  the  sand 
dunes,  two  to  three  hundred  feet  high,  bearing  not 
a  sprig  of  vegetation  and  the  prevailing  winds  being 
from  the  northwest,  this  loose  sand  had  been  blown 
across  the  valley  and  formed  this  monumental  freak 
of  the  elements.  There  was  no  other  water  nearer 
than  the  Platte  river  on  the  south,  or  Salt  creek  on 
the  west,  about  equal  distances,  fully  twenty-five 
miles  away.  The  hills  around  were  a  great  range 
for  antelope  and  morning,  noon  and  night  great 
bands  were  seen  on  the  sand  bluffs  on  all  sides  of 
the  lake,  within  three  hundred  yards  to  one-half 
mile  waiting  to  come  to  water  and  evidently  wonder- 
ing who  was  encroaching  on  their  rights  to  drink  at 
this  lake. 

On  our  first  trip  to  the  Salt  Creek  country,  Gen- 
eral Crook  and  myself  started  ahead  of  the  hunting 
outfit  and  traveled  to  the  north.  Having  missed 
the  trail,  that  at  a  point  half  way  turned  sharp  west, 
after  traveling  twelve  to  fifteen  miles  following  a 
game  trail,  we  lost  our  bearings.    The  General  said : 

"We  had  better  turn  back,  follow  up  this  draw, 
find  the  trail  of  the  party  and  follow  it  directly  to 
camp." 

We  were  following  a  grassy  draw  five  or  six  miles 
long  and  were  in  the  brakes  out  of  the  sand  hills 
going  north,  so  we  immediately  turned  about.  On 
the  way  out  we  rode  in  the  bottom  of  the  draw  fol- 
lowing a  game  trail  and  were  at  all  times  in  the 
midst  of  antelope,  but  as  our  return  to  the  railroad 
would  lead  us  back  to  the  Springs  when  our  hunt 
was  finished,  we  deferred  killing  these.    The  coun- 


70  A  Waierhaul  in  the  Wind  River  Range 

try  was  rough,  broken  and  the  only  sign  of  civiliza- 
tion was  the  trail  of  a  round-up  wagon.  Antelope 
were  in  bands  of  a  hundred  or  more  and  black  tail 
deer  were  on  all  sides  of  us.  At  most  we  could  only 
pack  one  animal  behind  each  saddle  and,  not  know- 
ing how  far  we  must  travel,  we  paid  no  attention  to 
either  deer  or  antelope.  Following  this  draw  some  six 
miles  on  the  back  track  at  every  turn  two,  three  or 
five  deer  would  jump  up  ten  to  twenty  yards  away 
and  we  counted  seventy-two  in  six  miles  of  travel. 
Finding  the  trail  of  our  outfit  we  followed  it  six 
hours  before  reaching  camp.  On  the  day's  ride  we 
were  forty-five  miles  in  the  saddle,  arriving  after 
dark.  The  tents  were  up,  a  roaring  campfire  of  logs 
made  just  under  a  cut  bank  thirty  feet  high,  above 
the  creek  bed  and  a  good  supper  awaited  us. 


A  WATERHAUL  IN  THE  WIND  RIVER  RANGE. 

One  November  General  George  Crook,  General  T. 
H.  Stanton,  A.  E.  Touzalin,  Webb  Hayes  and  my- 
self made  a  trip  from  Rawlins  of  nearly  two  hundred 
miles  north  of  the  Union  Pacific  railroad,  in  an  am- 
bulance sent  down  from  Fort  Washakie.  On  our 
arrival  there  we  procured  a  camp  outfit  and  went 
over  to  the  Wind  river,  following  it  up,  crossing 
Bull  Lake  fork,  then  up  the  North  fork  and  over  on 
the  East  fork.  This  carried  us  into  the  lofty  moun- 
tains south  of  Jackson  Hole.  We  traveled  as  far 
as  our  wagon  loaded  with  grain  could  go,  then  left 
it  on  a  high  ridge  in  snow  a  foot  deep,  in  plain  sight 
for  full  fifty  miles  on  all  sides,  and  with  pack  and 
saddle  mules  we  pushed  on  towards  the  timbered 


A  Waterhaul  in  the  Wind  River  Range  71 

mountains,  and  went  into  camp  in  a  basin  sur- 
rounded by  low,  sharp  foothills,  streaked  with 
crooked  black  lines  which  we  discovered  were  riv- 
ulets of  water  from  springs  and  melting  snow.  The 
weather  was  intensely  cold,  sun  dogs  were  visible 
every  day  in  the  east  and  south  and  the  snow  was 
eighteen  inches  deep.  There  appeared  to  be  no 
other  water  for  miles  around,  and  having  no  guide 
and  with  some  misgivings,  we  worked  our  way  to 
the  center  of  these  black  lines  and  camped  on  a 
small  running  stream.  Here  we  spent  five  days  and 
hunted  in  all  directions  as  far  as  we  could  ride 
through  the  rough  country  and  return  to  camp  each 
night. 

Returning  to  camp  on  the  fifth  day,  a  storm  of 
soft  wet  snow  came  up  and  the  old  snow  began  to 
melt.  I  was  alone  and  as  I  came  through  an  open- 
ing in  a  patch  of  willows  there  were  signs  of  an 
abandoned  Indian  camp.  Willows  were  bent  over 
and  their  tops  tied  together  with  bark.  The  bark 
was  eaten  off  from  other  willows  by  porcupines  and 
by  Indian  ponies.  Piles  of  small  horns  and  bones 
lay  around.  I  found  my  saddle  horse  was  walking 
on  a  soft  substance  that  on  investigation,  proved  to 
be  hair  from  deer,  elk  and  antelope.  A  party  of  over 
three  hundred  Indians,  consisting  of  Chief  Red 
Cloud  and  his  band  of  Ogalallas,  had  been  on  a  visit 
to  Chief  Washakie  and  the  Shoshone  Indians  a 
month  before  and  on  their  return  to  Red  Cloud 
agency  had  camped  here  two  weeks  and  killed  about 
all  the  game  in  the  vicinity.  To  reduce  the  weight 
of  their  packs  they  had  camped  on  this  spot  and 
sweated  the  hair  off  all  the  skins.     For  a  space  of 


72  A  Waterhaul  in  the  Wind  River  Range 

fifty  feet  square  the  hair  covered  the  ground  six  or 
eight  inches  deep.  As  we  later  learned,  their  kill 
had  been  seven  hundred  antelope,  three  hundred 
deer  and  nearly  all  the  elk  within  twenty  miles  of 
their  camp  and  they  packed  the  skins  away  on  their 
ponies  to  Red  Cloud  agency. 

We  had  not  seen  a  thing  of  life,  bird  or 
animal.  I  should  have  excepted  the  very  small 
white  snow  rabbit  called  "Conie,"  smaller  than 
a  guinea  pig,  snow  white  except  a  chestnut  color  on 
each  side  of  the  neck  which  we  found  away  up  on 
the  smooth  rolling  mountains  of  snow  where  there 
was  no  sign  of  timber  or  brush.  Away  beyond  them 
were  the  timbered  mountains  of  the  Wind  River 
range. 

Webb  Hayes  and  Mr.  Touzalin  brought  out  a 
bear  trap  and  packed  it  over  to  a  bunch  of  thick 
pines  where  one  of  the  hunters  told  of  seeing  signs 
of  a  small  bear.  After  setting  the  trap  in  a  favorable 
place  and  putting  a  log  twelve  feet  long  through 
the  six-inch  chain  ring  to  prevent  its  being  carried 
away  by  any  kind  of  game  that  might  be  caught, 
both  started  back  for  camp.  They  separated  and 
Mr.  Hayes  followed  along  the  edge  of  the  timber 
and  the  two  hunters  were  soon  lost  to  each  other. 
Although  Mr.  Hayes  was  somewhat  handicapped  by 
the  effect  of  the  snow  on  his  eyes  he  caught  sight  of 
a  small  black  object  moving  aimlessly  among  the 
big  trees  and,  dismounting,  he  waded  through  the 
deep  snow,  dodging  around  and  behind  the  trees 
until  near  enough  to  make  the  discovery  that  the 
object  was  a  small  black  bear  cub  which  he  killed 
and  brought  in  behind  his  saddle.    On  account  of  its 


A  Waterhaul  in  the  Wind  River  Range  73 

size  it  seemed  rather  an  insignificant  specimen  of  a 
bear  and  furnished  no  end  to  the  amusement  it  gave 
General  Crook  and  the  continual  chaffing  he  gave 
Mr.  Hayes.  This  incident  whetted  the  interest  in 
the  trap  the  next  morning. 

On  the  fourth  day  in  camp  General  Stanton,  Mr. 
Touzalin  and  I  made  an  early  start  to  prospect  the 
valley  leading  west.  .  In  an  hour  a  fall  of  damp 
snow  set  in,  the  flakes  being  nearly  as  large  as  a 
hen's  e^gg.  We  were  well  protected  by  rubber  coats 
and  leggins  and  continued  on  for  seven  miles  when 
we  got  off  our  mules  under  a  fir  tree  one  hundred 
and  fifty  feet  high.  Under  the  shelter  of  the  sloping 
limbs  we  built  a  fire  and  ate  our  lunch,  then  started 
for  camp,  our  journey  having  been  uneventful,  and 
no  game  was  seen.  The  great  flakes  of  wet  snow 
continued  to  fall  and  melt,  and  we  found  great  diffi- 
culty in  traveling,  for  the  feet  of  our  horses,  besides 
balling  up  at  every  step,  found  gumbo  mud  and 
their  feet  would  continually  ball  with  the  snow  and 
mud  making  it  hard  traveling.  We  were  four  hours 
on  the  journey  of  seven  miles  to  camp  where  we 
found  General  Crook  and  others  of  the  party  had  al- 
ready arrived.  The  colored  soldiers  had  spent  the 
day  in  snaking  in  from  the  mountain  side  stumps 
and  butts  of  pine  trees  and  had  a  pile  as  large  as  a 
freight  car.  Our  arrival  was  a  signal  for  starting 
the  fire.  In  an  hour  it  blazed  up  fifty  feet  in  the 
air  and  seemed  to  light  up  the  whole  country  for 
miles  around.  After  supper  we  decided  to  move 
out  of  the  country  the  next  morning,  for  we  dis- 
covered that  while  the  ground  appeared  solid  when 
we  made  camp  on  the  frozen  snow,  when  it  thawed 


74  A  Waterhaul  in  the  Wind  River  Range 

we  were  in  a  bog  of  bad  lands,  and  in  one  more  day 
of  wet  weather  it  would  have  been  next  to  im- 
possible to  get  out  at  all.  So  we  broke  camp  early 
and  after  an  hour's  travel  came  in  sight  of  our  grain 
wagon  five  miles  ahead  standing  out  on  the  great 
white  sheet  of  snow  a  picture  of  abandonment.  For 
three  days  we  traveled  towards  the  post  and  made 
out  last  camp  at  Bull  Lake  fork,  where  in  a  swift 
torrent  of  open  water,  we  caught  trout  weighing  two 
to  three  pounds  each.  This  is  a  most  picturesque 
spot  of  waterfall  and  boulders. 

The  next  day  by  noon  we  were  at  Fort  Washakie 
having  been  eleven  days  out  without  killing  a  head 
of  game  except  a  cub  bear  and  one  bear  trapped. 
The  disappointment  of  this  journey  only  whetted 
our  appetites  for  another  trip  before  the  snow  went 
off  and  the  following  March  we  went  south  and  east 
of  Rock  creek  in  the  Sierra  Madre  mountains  lying 
west  of  North  Park,  Colorado,  ^nd  camped  on  Sheep 
creek  at  the  foot  of  the  mountains  the  second  day 
out.  This  was  counted  the  very  roughest  and  most 
difficult  of  all  our  mountain  trips.  We  struck 
straight  east  across  the  country,  rough,  rolling 
plains  covered  with  sage  brush,  cut  up  with  wide 
coolies  and  ravines,  the  banks  so  steep  we  had  to 
*'lariat"  down  and  "double"  up  the  opposite  side. 
We  found  snow  at  the  foot  of  the  mountains  and 
an  abundance  of  dead  pine  trees  for  fuel,  but  no 
water  and  the  animals  ate  snow  and  pawed  it  away 
to  reach  the  grass.  There  were  no  foothills  or 
canyons  to  cross  for  the  plains  gradually  sloped  up 
to  benches  and  rocky  gorges  with  no  timber.  Along 
the  foothills  the  deep  ravines  running  away  to  the 


Antelope  Hunting  75 

valley  were  filled  with  snow  ten  to  forty  feet  deep. 
These  we  crossed  early  in  the  day  for  we  could  ride 
over  the  frozen  crust,  but  when  the  sun  came  out 
rivulets  of  water  ran  under  the  snow.  Our  saddle 
animals  would  plunge  into  the  snow  and  where  they 
would  sink  they  would  go  belly  deep  in  water  and 
slush,  the  rider  dismount  and  the  animal  would 
wallow  up  with  his  mount  dragging  after  him  hold- 
ing on  to  either  the  bridle  reins  or  the  animal's  tail. 
On  this  trip  Major  Lord  killed  five  mountain  sheep 
one  morning  and  although  only  two  miles  from 
camp  it  took  the  packers  an  entire  day  to  pack  them 
into  camp.  General  Crook  devoted  his  time  with 
Chief  Packer  Moore  to  finding  evidence  of  a  bear 
being  out  of  his  hole,  but  found  no  sign.  In  fact  the 
country  they  hunted  over  was  barren  of  game  and 
the  snow  very  deep.  Charles  Grosholz  of  Phila- 
delphia, a  relative  of  (the  then  Captain)  John  V. 
Furay  (since  retired  as  colonel),  depot  quartermaster 
at  Omaha,  was  one  of  our  guests  and  it  fell  to  me 
to  see  that  he  was  in  camp  every  night.  The  only 
mountain  climbing  he  had  ever  done  was  on  a  rail- 
road train.  My  saddle  mule  was  named  *7""^P" 
and  his  "J^"^/'  o^^  ^^  account  of  the  uncertainty 
of  his  gait,  and  the  other  we  could  only  conclude 
was  because  of  her  amiable  disposition,  which  all 
"Janes"  are  supposed  to  have. 


ANTELOPE  HUNTING. 

In  the  sand  dunes  north  of  Casper  Lieutenant 
(now  Colonel)  Mathias  of  the  Fifth  cavalry,  sta- 
tioned at  Fort  Robinson,  was  in  charge  of  the  gov- 


76  Antelope  Hunting 

ernment  transportation  that  took  our  party  over  on 
"Salt  Creek  and  the  Dry  Cheyenne,"  one  of  our  fa- 
vorite hunting  grounds  for  black  tail  deer,  antelope 
and  bear;  we  camped  at  Sand  Lake  the  first  night 
out  from  Casper,  about  4:30  p.  m.  in  the  month  of 
November.  This  was  about  the  time  of  day  the  an- 
telope came  to  water  at  the  lake,  there  being  no 
other  water  nearer  than  the  Platte  river,  twenty-five 
miles  away.  No  attention  was  given  the  antelope 
for  we  expected  to  make  camp  at  the  same  lake  on 
our  return,  and  in  a  short  time  *'top  out"  our  load  of 
elk,  deer  and  bear,  with  all  our  teams  could  haul 
back  to  the  railroad,  with  antelope.  The  next 
morning  we  made  an  early  start  for  Salt  Creek 
and  when  well  on  our  way  it  began  snowing.  Along 
the  trail  there  was  no  place  to  camp  where  we  could 
find  water  or  grass,  and  we  plodded  over  the  divide 
between  the  Platte  and  gait  Creek  through  the  snow 
and  sand  and  reached  Salt  Creek  in  time  to  put  up 
our  tents  and  finish  supper  before  dark.  The  next 
morning  there  was  good  "tracking  snow"  in  the 
valley,  and  aside  from  the  fact  that  a  dry  summer 
had  left  the  uncertain  stream  with  little  or  no  water, 
except  in  holes  and  cow  tracks  and  the  water  was 
strong  with  alkali  and  about  the  color  of  coffee,  by 
digging  wells  we  found  plenty  of  the  same  kind  of 
water,  of  sweetish  taste,  the  party  as  well  as  the  ani- 
mals drinking  so  freely  that  both  men  and  animals 
were  completely  upset.  The  next  morning  we  con- 
cluded to  change  camp  and  go  over  to  the  "Dry 
Cheyenne,"  for  there  was  danger  of  our  being 
snowed  in  where  we  were,  and  this  was  a  fortunate 
move,  for  the  trail  we  came  in  on  was  deep  in  snow 


Antelope  Huuteis — "Anielupe  Very  Cuniun 


Antelope  Hunting  77 

on  the  divide.  The  General  had  consulted  Bat 
who  said,  "we  can  pull  up  the  gulch,  climb  a  long 
sage  brush  hill,  and  if  the  snow  is  not  over  a  foot 
deep  on  the  divide,  we  can  make  camp  by  sundown." 
We  made  the  drive  and  reached  the  spring  in  due 
time  and  this  was  to  be  our  permanent  camp.  Be- 
sides Bat  we  had  three  Indian  guides,  "Red  Bear," 
"Red  Sack"  and  "Short  Bull."  From  this  camp  we 
hunted  a  week  and  killed  three  bear,  three  mountain 
sheep,  the  last  of  the  race  on  this  range,  also  one 
bull  elk,  and  he  was  also  the  last  of  his  kind  in  the 
vicinity,  and  a  wagonload  of  black  tail  deer. 

On  our  return  to  the  "Fetterman  Switch,"  where 
we  embarked  from,  we  again  camped  at  Sand 
Springs  about  noon.  There  were  bands  of  antelope 
scattered  about  coming  in  to  water  and  watching 
our  tents,  teams  and  animals.  While  at  lunch 
Lieutenant  Day  said  to  Bat,  "How  near  can  you 
approach  one  of  the  bands  with  two  or  three  of  us 
along?"  "Well,  if  we  take  a  little  time  we  can  get 
near  enough  to  kill  all  we  want  with  revolvers," 
said  Bat.  After  lunch  while  our  mules  were  be- 
ing saddled.  Bat  looked  over  the  situation  and 
we  were  soon  off  to  try  the  experiment.  Bat  led 
the  way  and  we  followed  along  down  the  valley  for 
three  miles,  then  turned  west  and  came  north 
against  the  wind,  alarming  one  or  two  small  bands 
to  which  we  paid  no  attention  for  Bat  had  selected 
a  band  of  about  a  hundred.  We  stopped  and  held  a 
council.  "They  are  just  over  that  second  ridge,  let 
them  feed  over  to  the  low  ground  then  we  will  gal- 
lop to  the  ridge  and  'you  fellers'  stay  back  while  I 
take  a  look,"  was  Bat's  suggestion.     Reaching  the 


78  Antelope  Hunting 

ridge  we  dismounted  and  Bat  crawled  and  looked 
over  the  ground;  presently  he  returned  and  said, 
"We  will  wait  here  a  few  minutes.  They  will  feed 
over  the  next  ridge  and  into  a  draw  that  runs  to 
camp.  When  we  get  to  the  draw  we  must  all  come 
up  in  a  bunch,  lean  over  our  horses'  necks  and  cross 
twenty  feet  in  plain  sight.  If  their  heads  are 
down  feeding  they  won't  notice  us  and  we  can  ride 
to  the  next  ridge  and  get  within  fifty  feet  of  the 
band." 

His  directions  were  followed.  We  crossed  the 
draw  without  being  seen  and  when  we  dismounted 
Bat  took  another  look,  then  dropped  back  to  us 
and  said :  "Tie  your  horses  to  the  sage  brush  and  we 
get  in  fifty  feet  of  the  band."  All  abreast  we  walked 
carefully  to  the  top  and  found  we  were  less  than 
fifty  feet  from  where  the  antelope  were  feeding; 
the  band  was  bunched  up  like  sheep  and  we 
began  firing.  Before  they  got  out  of  shooting 
distance  Day  had  brought  down  three  (Day  was 
the  crack  rifle  shot  of  his  regiment),  Bat  killed 
five,  myself  and  my  companion  four,  and  in  less 
than  five  minutes  the  party  had  twelve  dead  ante- 
lope in  sight.  Each  hunter  dressed  his  own  kill,  all 
except  Day  having  had  considerable  experience  in 
this.  In  half  an  hour  Bat  had  dressed  his  five, 
dragged  them  up  in  a  pile  and  from  an  adjoining 
ridge  in  sight  of  camp  he  signalled  for  pack  mules 
to  come  out  and  take  the  surplus  game  to  camp 
that  we  could  not  carry  behind  our  saddles.  Day 
was  a  little  loath  to  acknowledge  that  he  was  not 
thoroughly  "up"  in  the  art  of  dressing  game,  but  he 
cut  a  hole  in  the  side  of  a  small  buck,  then  cut  down 


How  to  Pack  a  Bear  Trap  79 

to  the  brisket,  took  out  the  entrals,  then  lifted  it 
onto  his  shoulder,  in  his  effort  to  hang  it  on  the 
saddle  horn  before  rolling  it  behind  his  saddle.  He 
missed  the  horn  and  it  fell  back  over  his  head,  com- 
pletely encasing  his  hat,  head  and  shoulders  in  the 
bleeding  carcass.  One  having  no  experience  in  load- 
ing a  freshly  killed  deer  or  antelope  on  a  pack  saddle 
cannot  imagine  the  difficulty  in  handling  it,  and  our 
hunters  only  deplored  Day's  misfortunes  without 
criticism. 


HOW  TO  PACK  A  BEAR  TRAP. 

Preparing  for  one  of  our  hunting  trips  up  to  the 
Wind  River  mountains.  Webb  Hayes  shipped  to 
Omaha  a  fifty-pound  bear  trap.  At  Speigle  Grove, 
his  home  (the  fromer  home  of  Ex-President  Hayes 
near  Fremont,  Ohio,)  the  Hayes  farm  grew  the  very 
finest  of  side  pears.  Webb  put  the  bear  trap  in  a 
barrel,  loose,  then  filled  the  barrel  with  pears — also 
loose.  When  it  reached  me  at  Omaha,  the  pears 
and  bear  trap  were  thoroughly  mixed  and  the  ex- 
press agent  threatened  to  throw  it  in  the  river  un- 
less it  was  taken  from  the  office  at  once.  The  pears, 
of  course,  did  not  prove  to  be  in  a  choice  condition, 
but  after  putting  the  trap  under  the  garden  hose 
for  a  day,  it  came  out  in  fair  condition  and  on  this 
particular  hunt  proved  an  interesting  addition  to 
our  sport. 

A  fifty-pound  bear  trap  has  a  stout  chain  attached 
at  the  end  of  a  six-inch,  heavy  iron  ring  to  slip  over 


80  Mow  to  Pack  a  Bear  Trap 

an  eight  or  ten-foot  log  to  prevent  its  being  carried 
away  when  a  "varmint"  was  caught. 

From  our  camp  out  on  the  east  fork  of  the  north 
fork  of  Wind  river  (today  this  may  seem  easy  sail- 
ing) Mr.  Tonzalin,  Webb  and  the  Indian,  Red  Sack, 
carried  the  trap  on  saddle  over  the  mountain  to  a 
low,  grassy  ravine  some  five  miles  from  camp.  They 
also  dragged  along  in  a  bag  a  lot  of  highly  seasoned 
entrails  of  game.  The  bait  was  hung  on  the  limb  of 
a  pine  tree  five  feet  high  from  the  ground  and  limbs 
of  trees  piled  on  each  side,  so  a  bear  to  get  to  the 
bait,  must  go  in  at  the  open  end  and  climb  up  the 
tree.  Here  the  trap  was  placed  at  the  foot  of  the 
tree.  For  a  day  or  two  the  hunters  were  so  busy 
hunting  over  the  high  snow-capped  mountains  in 
search  of  game  no  attention  was  paid  to  the  trap. 
General  Stanton  remarked  one  evening  in  camp : 

"If  somebody  don't  look  out  for  that  bear  trap, 
something  will  carry  it  away." 

The  next  morning  Mr.  Tonzalin,  Webb  and  the 
Indians  hiked  away  for  the  trap,  but  no  trap  was  to 
be  found  where  it  was  left.  Following  the  rough 
trail  they  found  it  in  a  grove  of  fir  trees,  the  ten-foot 
log  still  fastened  in  the  ring  and  a  fine,  young  black 
bear  caught  in  it  by  one  forefoot. 

It  was  impossible  for  the  bear  to  have  dragged 
the  trap  out  of  the  thick  grove  of  trees  where  it  was 
first  placed,  so  there  is  no  doubt  the  animal  had 
picked  up  the  log  and  carried  it  with  the  other  front 
leg  to  where  it  was  found  some  fifty  feet  away,  was 
Tom  Moore's  opinion. 


Out  on  the  Teapot  Bad  Lands  81 

OUT  ON  THE  TEAPOT  BAD  LANDS. 

This  hunt  for  big  game  was  up  near  the  "Tea- 
pot," and  the  mules,  wagons,  buck-board  and  riding 
horses  were  put  in  a  freight  car  at  the  ranch  of  A.  S. 
Patrick  at  Patrick  Siding,  six  miles  northwest  of 
Fremont,  Neb.,  on  the  Chicago  &  Northwestern 
railroad,  and  shipped  out  to  Fetterman  yards,  west 
of  Douglas,  Wyo.  Two  days  later  our  party,  A.  S. 
Patrick,  Robt.  E.  Patrick,  John  Patrick,  Henry  Ro- 
man, Little  Bat,  Race  Newcomb,  Mr.  Rainey,  and 
myself  started  out.  There  was  a  young  fellow  out 
on  my  ranch  on  the  Labonte  creek,  who  knew 
the  country  we  were  going  into,  and  I  suggested 
we  take  him  along  also,  as  that  would  give  us  three 
guides.  Percy  Pollard  was  the  youngster,  and  I 
was  quite  sure  he  would  hold  his  end  up  with  any 
man  in  the  crowd,  and  if  he  didn't  throw  the  lazy, 
trifling  cook  out  of  camp  and  "fit  himself  in,"  he 
would  make  himself  useful  to  every  hunter  in  the 
party.  He  said  he  would  go  along  and  "wrangle" 
the  horses. 

When  our  wagons,  horses,  tents  and  supplies 
were  unloaded  at  the  Fetterman  yards,  above  Doug- 
las, we  pulled  out  for  "Teapot,"  making  first  camp 
at  Sand  springs.  The  next  was  near  the  head  of 
Salt  creek,  and  after  putting  up  our  tents  and  tying 
our  horses  for  the  night,  it  began  snowing.  When 
morning  came  nearly  a  foot  of  snow  covered  the 
ground.  Al  Patrick,  with  Little  Bat,  Homan  and 
Percy,  saddled  up  and  were  off  for  a  pine  ridge  on 
the  south  soon  after  daylight,  the  rest  of  the  party 
going  in  other  directions,  as  their  fancy  dictated. 


82  Out  on  the  Teapot  Bad  Lands 

By  the  time  we  were  all  starting,  we  heard  a  "Yep, 
yep,  yep,"  from  Percy,  and  through  the  flying  snow, 
riding  a  mule  with  some  objects  at  the  end  of  his 
lariat,  he  came,  bounding  and  gliding  over  the  snow 
and  sage  brush,  and  this  prompted  us  to  halt  and 
wait  until  he  came  up.  The  mule  was  on  a  stiff- 
legged  lope,  and  Percy  made  a  swing  half  round  the 
tent,  in  cowboy  fashion — and  in  the  most  artistic 
fashion — to  "unload"  in  front  of  us.  Less  than  half 
a  mile  from  camp,  Patrick  and  Bat  had  killed  a  fine 
black  tail  buck  and  a  doe.  After  discussing  how 
they  could  get  the  game  back  to  camp  without  re- 
turning themselves  and  losing  time,  Percy  re- 
marked, "You  fellows  go  on,  I'll  get  'em  into  camp." 
His  mule  never  had  been  packed,  and  no  one  in  the 
party  wanted  to  ride  him,  even  with  only  the  saddle 
on.  Percy  dressed  the  two  deer,  passed  his  rope 
over  the  heads  of  them,  the  other  end  around  his 
saddle  horn. 

"Now,"  he  said,  "give  me  a  push,"  and  away  he 
sailed  over  the  snow  on  a  gallop,  dragging  the  deer 
after  him. 

This  tallied  one  good  turn  to  the  cowboy's  credit. 
Every  day  he  scored,  and  became  a  general  favorite, 
for  he  had  gumption  and  knew  how  to  do  things. 

Another  conspicuous  event  was  on  our  last  day 
before  leaving  for  the  railroad.  The  entire  party, 
with  Little  Bat  in  the  lead,  started  out  together  to 
finish  our  hunt,  so  if  more  game  was  killed  than  we 
could  pack  behind  our  saddles,  it  would  not  make  it 
necessary  for  an  extra  trip  to  bring  it  in.  We 
traveled  all  in  a  bunch,  while  Percy  rode  his  cow 
pony  and  led  the  mule  with  a  saw  buck  pack  saddle 


Out  on  the  Teapot  Bad  Lands  83 

strapped  along  to  pack  game  on,  but  we  had  learned 
by  this  time  that  the  cowboy  had  ways  of  his  own 
of  getting  out  of  a  dilemma,  so  chaffing  was 
done  rather  gingerly.  Percy  said,  "This  mule  has 
got  to  earn,  his  grain,  and  if  we  kill  game  enough 
Mr.  Mule  must  do  his  share  of  the  packing — we 
didn't  bring  him  along  just  to  look  at  the  scenery." 
We  had  been  on  the  way  an  hour,  when  suddenly 
Bat  halted  and  leaned  his  head  down  on  the  horse's 
neck,  swinging  around  to  the  left.  Without  any  in- 
structions we  followed  his  tactics.  Just  over  th<* 
crest  of  the  hill,  in  among  the  rocks,  scarcely  one 
hundred  yards  away,  he  had  discovered  seven  deer. 
The  wind  whistling  through  the  trees  made  so 
much  noise  the  game  knew  nothing  of  our  presence. 
We  all  dismounted,  tying  our  horses  to  sage  brush, 
and  leaving  Percy  with  the  mule,  we  crawled  on 
hands  and  knees,  following  Bat,  until  he  signaled 
us  to  raise  up  and  fire.  Five  deer  went  down  at  the 
first  fire,  and  before  the  other  two  had  run  fifty  yards 
they  fell  also,  scarcely  a  minute  passed  in  killing 
the  seven  deer.  In  preparing  them  for  packing  to 
camp,  the  heads  and  legs  were  taken  off  and  the 
bodies  dressed  to  lighten  the  loads.  Bat  loaded  the 
largest  buck  behind  his  saddle,  and  Homan  took  the 
next,  leaving  five  yet  to  be  packed.  The  other 
saddle  horses  would  not  carry,  and  it  was  supposed 
Percy's  mule  was  out  of  business  for  this  work,  and 
after  all  kinds  of  suggestions  by  every  one  of  the 
party  except  himself,  the  young  fellow  butted  in: 
"This  cussed  mule  has  got  to  carry  all  five. 
We  didn't  bring  him  along  to  show  him  the  coun- 
try, and  if  one  of  you  fellows  will  stay  with  me  to 


84  Out  on  the  Teapot  Bad  Lands 

help  me  load  and  give  the  mule  a  push,  I'll  get  them 
to  camp  all  right."  That  speech  silenced  every  man 
in  the  party.  "If  the  old  shave  tail  will  carry  two," 
said  Patrick,  "we  will  snake  over  the  other  three, 
for  our  horses  won't  carry."  We  were  standing  in 
six  inches  of  snow.  Percy  asked  Homan  to  hand 
him  his  rope.  He  tied  the  front  and  hind  legs  of 
each  deer  at  the  knees;  he  pushed  the  mule  along 
side  a  high  bank,  pulled  his  .legs  from  under  him 
and  threw  him  to  the  ground.  One  deer  was  put  on 
each  side  of  the  pack  saddle  with  its  back  down. 
When  made  fast,  we  lifted  two  and  tied  them  on 
crossways;  the  fifth  deer  was  laid  in  the  middle, 
and  when  all  were  securely  lashed,  Percy  said :  "I 
want  two  strong  men  here." 

Five  of  us  took  hold  and  lifted  the  mule  to  his 
feet ;  he  staggered  about  a  minute,  tried  to  kick  and 
shake  off  his  load;  finding  this  entirely  useless,  he 
suddenly  started  away,  and  so  well  did  the  mule 
behave  under  this  big  load, — so  securely  were  the 
five  deer  packed, — but  a  single  stop  was  made  on 
the  road  to  camp  to  tighten  up.  So  Percy  with  his 
mule  packed  with  the  five  deer  arrived  at  camp 
with  the  rest  of  us. 

The  load  was  unlashed,  the  pack  saddle  taken  off, 
and  the  mule  turned  loose.  He  grunted  two  or 
three  times,  lay  down  and  rolled  over,  and  was  soon 
as  docile  as  a  kitten.  During  all  these  proceedings 
Bat  had  made  no  remark,  but  as  he  turned  to  go  to 
the  tent  he  said, — "That  boy  Percy  is  a  good  one, — 
he  is  no  'sooner.'  " 

The  next  morning  we  pulled  out  for  Fetterman. 
To  prevent  waiting  at  these  yards,  where  there  was 


Incidents  85 

only  a  switch  and  loading  pens  for  cattle  trains,  it 
was  necessary  to  inform  Mr.  C.  C.  Hughes,  that 
princely  good  fellow,  the  superintendent  of  the 
Northwestern  Railroad,  that  he  could  send  his  spe- 
cial car  and  a  freight  car  to  load  our  deer  and  camp 
equipments  for  home,  and  to  provide  hay  and  grain 
for  the  stock  on  our  arrival  at  the  Fetterman  yards. 
Again  the  young  cowboy  came  to  the  front.  Percy 
said,  "It's  sixty-two  miles  to  Glen  Rock ;  I  can  ride 
there  tomorrow  and  have  hay  and  grain  at  the  Fet- 
terman yards  the  day  before  you  reach  there." 

We  arrived  the  next  day  at  three  o'clock,  and 
found  the  young  fellow  waiting  with  the  forage  pro- 
vided, having  made  two  or  three  trips  back  and 
forth  from  Fetterman  to  Glen  Rock  after  his  sixty- 
two  mile  ride  the  first  day. 

The  conspicuous  references  to  Percy, — if  the 
reader  has  followed  them  carefully — will  show  he 
was  capable  of  making  good  in  other  ways  than 
wrangling  horses  for  a  hunting  party. 


INCIDENTS. 

The  many  incidents  of  these  royal  hunts  are  often 
of  more  real  interest  than  any  that  are  much  longer 
reaching  a  climax. 

Our  Indian  guide,  "Short  Bull,"  who  was  a  hun- 
dred yards  ahead  of  Henry  Homan  and  myself, 
stopped  suddenly,  and  beckoned  us  to  come  to  him. 
There  was  good  tracking  snow  on  the  ground,  and 
he  pointed  to  a  trail  of  several  deer  that  had  crossed 
the  valley  during  the  night,  not  half  a  mile  from 


86  Incidents 

our  camp,  going  towards  a  bunch  of  bad  land  hills 
to  the  north.  Holding  up  his  hands  he  indicated 
seven  in  all,  and  by  holding  both  open  hands  over 
his  head,  it  indicated  two  were  bucks  with  big 
horns;  closing  one  hand  tight  and  jerking  it  towards 
the  ground  indicated  that  we  would  dismount,  and 
pointing  his  fingers  away  from  his  eyes  and  sweep- 
ing over  the  country  ahead  meant  that  we  were  to 
remain  there  until  he  looked  around. 

In  five  minutes  he  returned  and  motioned  us  to 
get  on  our  horses  and  follow,  for  the  deer  were 
traveling  fast.  Following  the  trail,  he  led  us  over 
a  ridge  of  bad  lands,  where  the  descent  was  very 
steep  and  the  earth  as  soft  as  ashes.  Down  we 
plunged,  my  horse  planting  his  four  feet  firmly  in 
the  soft  earth,  and  stiflf-legged,  slid  part  of  the  way 
down,  then  stumbled,  and  I  went  headlong  over  his 
head,  landing  squarely  on  my  back,  ten  feet  ahead  of 
him — leaving  a  few  tender  spots  on  my  shoulder. 
I  again  mounted  and  followed  on.  We  were  soon 
out  of  the  bad  lands  and  going  up  a  grassy  ravine, 
with  low  hills  on  each  side. 

Between  Indians  and  wild  game,  I  am  forced  to 
the  belief  that  a  great  sympathy  exists.  Suddenly, 
Short  Bull  stopped,  dismounted,  threw  the  reins 
over  the  pony's  head  and  dropped  them  on  the 
ground.  (This  is  ''tying  your  horses  to  the 
ground").  Three  or  four  draws  led  out  of  the  valley, 
and  the  Indian  was  as  keen  to  investigate  each  scent 
as  a  pointer  dog  would  be  on  a  covey  of  quail. 
Looking  back,  he  nodded  to  us  that  the  game  was 
very  near.     From  the  trail  the}^  had  begun  feeding, 


\ 


'Fussin'  "   About   Camp. 


Incidents  87 

and  were  as  likely  to  be  in  one  draw  as  another,  so 
we  got  off  our  horses  and  dropped  the  reins. 

The  peculiar  antics  of  Mr.  Short  Bull  were  inter- 
esting. Leaving  the  trail  he  would  crawl  to  the  top 
of  one  ridge,  then  back  and  over  the  next.  Peering 
over  a  ridge  at  the  head  of  a  draw  not  forty  feet 
from  where  we  stood,  he  suddenly  dropped  flat  on 
the  ground  and  backed  out  and  joined  us.  By  signs 
he  made  us  understand  that  the  seven  deer  were 
right  "over  there" — the  two  big  bucks  nearest  to  us, 
and  all  with  their  heads  down  feeding.  Now  Ro- 
man was  alive  and  so  fidgety  he  trembled  life  a  leaf. 
He  raised  his  head,  put  his  rifle  to  his  shoulder, 
which  the  guide  and  myself  also  did,  and  in  an  in- 
stant three  shots  rang  out.  The  two  bucks  and  a 
small  doe  fell  in  their  tracks.  But  Short  Bull  was 
not  satisfied;  mounting  his  pony,  he  galloped  up 
the  ravine,  while  the  four  deer  ran  to  his  left. 

By  the  time  the  guide  returned,  we  had  the  three 
deer  dressed  and  all  tied  behind  our  saddles.  The 
remaining  four  did  not  go  but  four  or  five  hundred 
yards  away.  The  older  animals  will  not  go  far 
away  from  the  younger  ones  (a  mother  instinct.)  At 
times  they  will  come  back  to  the  spot,  and  a  hunter 
knowing  this  frequently  kills  a  fawn  on  purpose  to 
bring  the  mother  back  within  shot. 

By  the  skillful  maneuvering  of  Short  Bull  we 
again  came  on  to  the  four  deer,  and  our  three  shots 
brought  down  three  more  of  the  band — only  one 
escaping  out  of  seven.  The  only  credit  due  to  Ro- 
man and  myself  was  that  we  hit  our  game,  not 
because  of  any  superior  knowledge  of  the  habits  of 
deer,  or  our  own  great  skill  in  coming  onto  them. 


88  Incidents 

If  you  want  any  lessons  as  to  killing  large  game, 
find  such  a  hunter  as  "Little  Bat,"  or  look  up  a 
Sioux  Indian  who  knows  its  habits.  The  chief  thing 
to  learn  is  how  to  trail  a  wounded  animal  over  any 
kind  of  ground. 


MISCELLANEOUS  ST0RIE:S 

WORKING  FOR  WAGES. 

When  I  managed  the  banking  house  of  Nowlan 
&  Weary,  at  Helena,  Montana,  being  counted  an 
expert  in  judging  values  of  gold  dust  taken  from 
the  various  gulches,  the  firm  paid  me  $500.00  per 
month  salary  in  gold.  At  this  time  $1.00  in  gold 
coin  was  rated  at  upwards  of  $2.50  in  United  States 
currency.  At  this  rate  my  salary  amounted  to 
$1,250.00  per  month  in  United  States  currency — 
not  a  bad  salary  for  a  young  man  twenty-four  years 
old.  In  addition  to  this,  the  firm  presented  me  with 
a  gold  quartz  nugget  worth  $125.00  and  $75.00 
in  cash,  the  price  of  steamboat  passage  from  Fort 
Benton  to  Omaha.  The  latter  luxury  I  did  not 
avail  myself  of,  coming  down  the  Missouri  river  in 
my  own  open  boat,  rowed  by  hand,  twenty-one 
hundred  miles. 


IS  THIS  CONSCIENCE  MONEY? 

Not  many  years  ago,  an  attorney  in  San  Francisco 
wrote  me  a  letter  of  which  this  is  the  substance: 

"I  am  directed  to  send  you  $200.00,  which  I  will 
do  on  receipt  of  a  letter  from  you  saying  where  it 
will  reach  you.  It  will  be  useless  to  make  inquiry; 
the  money  belongs  to  you,  and  on  your  definite 
reply  I  will  forward  it." 


90  Hustling 

I  answered  the  letter  promptly  and  in  due  course 
of  mail  received  a  draft  for  $200.00.  Although  it 
came  in  a  draft  of  a  California  bank  on  Chicago  and 
was  duly  honored,  no  doubt  it  was  sent  there  to 
conceal  the  identity  of  the  sender.  I  took  the  at- 
torney's advice,  accepted  the  money,  and  hope  it 
relieved  the  mind  of  the  person  causing  it  to  reach 
me. 


HUSTLING. 

On  my  various  journeys  through  the  west,  before 
the  days  of  railroads  west  of  the  Missouri  river,  I 
crossed  the  Rocky  mountains  on  foot,  on  horseback, 
by  wagon,  and  by  stage  coach,  nine  times. 


THE  SQUAW  MAN. 

Nick  Janice  came  to  Fort  Laramie  in  1847,  and 
engaged  in  free  trapping.  Later  he  was  employed 
by  one  of  the  fur  companies.  In  the  winter  of  '48- 
'49,  he  was  employed  by  Captain  Stansbury,  a  gov- 
ernment engineer,  who  in  the  spring  of  1849  sur- 
veyed the  Great  Salt  Lake  and  surroundings.  Later 
he  returned  as  far  as  Cheyenne  Pass,  left  the  sur- 
veying party,  and  at  once  "threw  in"  with  the  In- 
dians. In  the  fall  of  1850  he  married  in  Indian 
fashion  a  Sioux  woman,  who  called  herself  Red 
Cloud's  sister,  (John  Hunton  now  at  old  Fort  Lara- 
mie is  my  authority  for  the  above).     Nick  at  once 


I 


The  Squaw  Man  91 

began  trading  and  trapping,  and  accumulated  a  few 
head  of  horses.  Later  he  acted  as  guide  and  inter- 
preter for  the  government,  and  died  at  or  near  Pine 
Ridge  agency  in  1903.  His  knowledge  of  the  ways 
of  the  world  were  limited;  he  could  neither  read  nor 
write,  and  coming  from  near  St.  Charles,  Mo.,  was 
known  as  a  Missouri  Frenchman.  His  traits  of 
character  all  leaned  towards  the  lazy,  idle  Indian 
life. 

On  my  arrival  at  Fort  Laramie  in  72  Nick  was 
preparing  to  take  up  a  ranch  thirty  miles  from  the 
fort  at  the  Big  Springs  (where  now  is  an  extensive 
and  well  improved  ranch  owned  by  Colonel  J.  H. 
Pratt  and  the  Leiter  estate),  as  soon  as  the  Indian 
agency,  then  located  there,  was  moved  over  on 
White  river,  where  the  town  of  Crawford,  Nebraska, 
now  stands.  This  occurred  a  year  or  two  later.  At 
this  time  his  family  of  half-breed  boys  and  girls 
went  with  him  on  the  ranch.  John  Reshaw  (or 
Richard)  in  those  days  a  daring,  wild  and  reckless 
character  of  that  country,  who  floated  logs  down 
the  Platte  and  built  a  bridge  across  the  river  near 
Fort  Fetterman,  married  Nick's  oldest  daughter, 
Emily.  Reshaw  was  later  killed  by  Two  Bears,  an 
Indian,  at  a  camp  near  Mitchel's  bottom  on  the 
Platte  river  some  forty  miles  below  Fort  Laramie, 
and  the  vengeance  that  was  later  wreaked  on  that 
Indian  borders  too  much  on  Indian  savagery  to  be 
written  in  detail  here.  Suffice  it  then,  that  rumor 
was  afloat  that  the  wife  treasured  up  this  crime, 
and  a  day  came  when  the  slayer  of  her  husband 
was  camped  only  a  few  miles  from  her  home.  Here 
Emily  took  occasion  to  visit  the  camp  of  this  same 


92  The  Squaw  Man 

Indian.  Stories  that  were  afloat  in  those  days  gen- 
erally were  true,  and  this  was  counted  one  of  the 
horrible  tragedies  of  the  Platte  valley. 

Nick  had  accumulated  a  herd  of  a  thousand  or 
more  cattle  and  was  then  quite  a  prominent  cattle 
man.  About  his  ranch  there  could  at  all  times  be 
seen  from  two  to  eight  lodges  of  Indians. 

Red  Cloud  by  this  time  had  become  quite  a 
prominent  chief,  always  disgruntled  from  that  time 
down  to  the  present  day,  and  the  most  hated  Indian 
chief  of  any  tribe.  The  Indians  around  the  ranch 
were  now  all  Nick's  relations  for  he  had  married  in 
Red  Cloud's  family  and  they  at  all  times  quartered 
on  him,  and  as  he  told  me,  they  were  a  terrible  tax 
on  his  commissary,  consuming  a  "beef"  a  week,  and 
a  barrel  of  sugar  and  a  thousand  pounds  of  flour  a 
month.  This  he  pondered  over  a  long  time,  but  saw 
no  way  of  dispensing  with  these  relations  and  cut- 
ting down  expenses. 

When  the  Black  Hills  gold  excitement  broke  out 
and  Jim  Stephenson  of  Omaha  (who,  while  serving 
as  city  councilman,  was  best  known  as  "Modoc 
Jim")  put  on  a  stage  line  from  Sidney  to  the  Black 
Hills,  then  the  country  became  altogether  too  civil- 
ized, and  the  Indian  families  moved  back  to  the 
agency  on  White  river,  leaving  Nick  alone  with  his 
immediate  family,  numbering  almost  a  dozen,  old 
and  young.  His  ranch  was  on  the  main  road  and 
convenient  for  a  "swing  station"  where  the  stage 
made  a  change  of  horses  daily,  no  meals  being 
served.  In  those  early  days  no  stage  was  ever  run 
very  long  that  did  not  have  "Star  Mail  Route"  and 
it  became  necessary  to  establish  postoffices  and  ap- 


The  Squaw  Man  93 

point  postmasters  along  the  Sidney  route.  Nick's 
ranch  was  central  for  a  dozen  or  two  ranches  five 
to  twenty-five  miles  away,  and  the  cowboys  soon 
acquired  the  habit  of  riding  their  cow  ponies  over 
to  get  the  mail  once  a  week.  The  only  receptacle 
for  mail  at  this  office  was  a  wooden  box  that  had 
contained  soap.  When  the  stage  arrived  any  one 
who  happened  to  be  standing  at  the  door  would 
hand  in  the  bag  which  was  opened  at  once,  its  con- 
tents were  dumped  into  the  wooden  soap  box  and 
and  every  man  in  the  room  would  help  himself. 
Then  the  outgoing  letters  were  thrown  into  a  bag 
and  handed  to  the  driver  and  the  coach  would  roll 
away.  At  the  present  time  this  loose  way  of 
handling  Uncle  Sam's  mail  would  perhaps  not  be 
tolerated.  I  have  seen  the  stage  going  from 
Cheyenne  to  Deadwood  stop  on  the  broad  prairie, 
the  driver  hand  out  the  mail  bag  from  the  front 
boot  of  the  coach  to  a  traveler  riding  alone  in  a 
buggy.  He  would  dump  the  contents  of  the  bag 
out  on  the  ground.  If  there  chanced  to  be  a  letter 
addressed  to  him  he  would  take  it  out,  put  the 
letters  and  papers  back  in  the  bag,  hand  it  up  to  the 
driver  and  both  go  on  about  their  business.  So 
there  was  no  comparative  reason  for  complaint  at 
the  way  mail  was  handled  at  Nick's  postoffice. 

When  James  A.  Garfield  was  nominated  for  presi- 
dent the  National  Republican  Committee,  according 
to  custom,  sent  the  usual  circulars  to  all  the  post- 
masters over  the  country,  asking  for  financial  aid 
to  conduct  the  campaign.  Nick  was  included  in  the 
list,  and  he  was  notified  by  circular  that  $100.00 
contributed  by  him  to  the  fund  would  be  accepted 


94  The  Squaw  Man 

as  his  proportion,  he  being  a  ''postmaster."  This 
was  a  stunner  to  him  and  he  at  once  harnessed  his 
team  and  brought  this  circular  up  to  Fort  Laramie 
for  me  to  read  and  advise  him  what  he  had  better 
do  in  the  premises. 

About  the  same  time  the  postoffice  department  at 
Washington  sent  out  the  usual  circulars  calling  on 
all  postmasters  to  account  for  the  sale  of  postage 
stamps,  also  for  the  box  rent  of  the  office.  All  of 
these  coming  from  Washington  about  the  same 
time  Nick  got  the  impression  that  the  United  States 
government  had  a  grudge  against  him,  particularly, 
and  wanted  to  break  him  up  in  business,  as  he  said. 

On  his  arrival  at  the  fort  the  conversation  was 
all  by  him  and  there  was  little  for  me  to  say.  ''Who 
is  this  man  Garfield?  I  don't  know  him  and  I  don't 
owe  him  any  money.  If  he  is  a  poor  man  and  will 
come  to  my  ranch,  I  will  give  him  a  beef  and  he 
can  stay  at  my  house  a  week,  but  I  don't  want  his 
d — d  postoffice  at  my  ranch  any  more.  Send  him 
money  for  my  box  rent?  Why  I  bought  this  box 
full  of  soap  from  you,  Mr.  Collins,  and  you  know  I 
paid  for  it.  Send  money  for  stamps?  I  never  had 
any  stamps  but  what  I  bought  from  you.  I  think 
these  people  in  Washington  are  trying  to  rob  me 
and  I  won't  stand  for  it."  Down  at  the  ranch  there 
was  a  man  by  the  name  of  Godfrey.  Nick  said  he 
could  do  "pen  writin'  "  and  he  was  going  back  to 
throw  that  postoffice  out  on  the  trail  and  have  God- 
frey write  Mr.  Garfield  he  didn't  want  him  to  send 
any  more  circulars  to  his  ranch. 

When  Nick  returned  to  the  ranch,  true  to  his 
word,  he  put  all  the  letters  and  papers  that  were 


The  Squaw  Man  95 

left  over  in  a  canvas  sack,  tied  it  with  a  string,  and 
when  the  stage  came  along  he  handed  the  bag  to 
the  driver  saying,  "You  can  take  the  postoffice  some 
place  else,  I  won't  have  it  at  my  ranch  any  longer." 

The  civilizing  effect  of  a  stage  running  through 
the  Indian  country  had  its  educational  effects  also, 
and  there  was  occasionally  talk  of  schools,  teachers, 
etc.  Later  one  Hophoff  started  a  school  nine  miles 
below  Fort  Laramie.  The  settlers  employed  a 
teacher  and  it  was  not  long  until  it  was  known  that 
a  school  was  in  full  blast  down  at  Hophoff's.  He 
being  a  man  of  large  family,  at  least  two-thirds  of 
the  pupils  were  his  own  children.  The  teacher,  a 
woman,  boarded  at  his  home. 

Janice  by  this  time  realized  that  civilization  was 
about  to  encroach  upon  the  wild  country,  and  one 
of  his  daughters,  named  Nettie,  about  sixteen  years 
of  age,  was  selected  as  the  proper  member  of  the 
family  to  go  to  school.  To  arrange  this  properly 
he  brought  the  young  girl  to  my  house  at  the  fort 
and  asked  me  to  fix  her  up  so  she  could  go  to  school. 
She  was  rather  neatly  dressed  and  of  fairly  good 
proportion.  Her  face  was  round  and  full,  lips  in- 
clined to  be  thick,  complexion  more  on  the  order  of 
an  octoroon  than  a  "half-breed"  Indian,  which  is 
slightly  tinged  with  a  copper  color;  her  teeth  were 
white  and  of  a  shape  and  regularity  to  be  envied  by 
an  American  belle;  black  eyes;  and  hair  as  black 
and  glossy  as  the  color  of  a  raven's  wing,  hung  in 
loose  curls  over  her  shoulders.  She  was  very  shy, 
having  never  before  been  away  from  her  own  peo- 
ple, and  during  the  afternoon  and  the  following 
morning  that  she  was  at  my  house,  although  her 


96  The  Squaw  Man 

father  would  talk  to  her,  I  did  not  hear  her  utter  a 
word.  That  was  the  Indian  of  it.  I  gave  Nick  a 
letter  to  Mr.  Hophoff  and  explained  that  she  wanted 
to  live  with  his  family  and  go  to  school.  A  week 
passed  and  I  got  no  report  on  the  new  pupil.  On 
the  tenth  day  Hophoff  came  to  the  fort  to  report 
the  girl  missing.  She  had  left  his  house  the  after- 
noon before,  and  nothing  had  been  heard  of  her 
since,  so  he  came  to  the  fort  to  ascertain  if  she  had 
come  that  way.  I  sent  a  cowboy  on  horseback  down 
to  Janice's  ranch  thirty  miles  away  to  inquire  if  she 
had  reached  home  and  when  he  returned  to  the  post 
he  brought  word  that  the  girl  was  safe  at  home. 

The  next  day  was  Sunday  and  Nick  drove  to  the 
fort  to  buy  some  groceries  and  the  account  he  gave 
of  his  daughter  was  amusing.  He  said  Nettie  could 
not  talk  "United  States"  and  could  not  understand 
anything  that  was  said  to  her,  and  she  didn't  want 
to  go  to  school  anyhow,  so  she  wrapped  her  clothes 
in  a  shawl  and  "hit  the  trail"  for  home,  wading  the 
Platte  river  at  the  ford  after  dark,  and  arriving  home 
about  eight  o'clock,  wet  up  to  her  neck.  At  the 
ford  near  Nick's  ranch  the  river  was  over  two 
hundred  feet  wide,  and  in  places  was  near  three  feet 
deep,  and  this  is  where  she  waded  the  river  to  reach 
her  home. 

With  Nick's  many  shortcomings  he  did  not 
neglect  his  personal  appearance.  During  the  many 
years  I  knew  him  from  1872,  scarcely  a  month 
passed  that  I  did  not  see  him,  and  I  cannot  recall  a 
time  when  he  did  not  wear  a  black  cloth  suit,  a  grey 
felt  hat  and  a  white  shirt.  Among  the  ranchmen, 
cattlemen,  and  people  traveling  through  the  country, 


Down  the  Missouri  River  on  a  Steamboat  97 

the  clothing  worn  was  canvas  copper-riveted  trous- 
ers, woolen  shirts  and  broad  brimmed  hats.  So 
Nick's  black  suit  always  attracted  more  or  less  at- 
tention, and  stood  out  conspicuously.  Nick  having 
married  a  squaw,  he  became  entitled  to  draw  gov- 
ernment rations,  and  his  children  having  Indian 
blood,  they  also  were  entitled  to  draw  rations,  when 
of  age.  Many  of  the  early  white  settlers  married 
squaws  after  an  Indian  fashion,  and  enjoyed  the 
same  privileges,  and  these  are  known  as  "squaw 
men." 


DOWN  THE  MISSOURI  RIVER  ON  A  STEAMBOAT. 

In  1868,  the  year  after  I  shipped  my  mules  over- 
land, I  made  a  second  trip  by  stage  from  Omaha 
to  Helena,  and  returned  via  Fort  Benton  on  a  stern 
wheel  steamboat.  At  Fort  Benton  the  only  freight 
coming  down  was  a  few  beef  hides  and  dressed 
buffalo  robes  packed  in  bales  of  ten  each,  a  bale 
weighing  about  one  hundred  pounds.  A  few  hun- 
dred bales  were  loaded  here,  but  the  bulk  of  the 
cargo  was  put  on  further  down  the  river  at  the  va- 
rious Indian  trading  camps,  at  Fort  Berthold  and 
old  Fort  Peck,  and  the  Indian  trading  stores.  When 
the  manifest  was  complete  the  clerk  of  the  boat  told 
me  there  were  sixty-five  thousand  buffalo  robes  on 
board.  They  were  unloaded  at  Bismarck,  Yankton 
and  Sioux  City. 

Below  the  mouth  of  Judith  river,  our  boat  com- 
ing down  passed  an  up-bound  steamer  that  had 
snagged  and  sunk  in  ten  feet  of  water,  about  twenty 


98  Down  the  Missouri  River  on  a  Steamboat 

feet  from  shore.  It  was  in  the  country  of  the  most 
hostile  Indians,  and  they  were  incHned  to  dispute 
the  right  of  any  travel,  even  of  a  steamboat.  In  a 
few  hours  after  the  boat  snagged  the  Indians 
bobbed  up  from  behind  every  brush  patch  and  tree 
and  rock  along  the  bank.  Immediately  after  sink- 
ing the  boat,  the  crew  began  preparations  for  de- 
fence against  the  Indians.  They  first  hoisted  sev- 
eral barrels  of  coal  oil  from  below  deck  and  got  them 
on  shore.  All  the  inside  cabin  berths  were  stove  in, 
the  bucket  planks  taken  off  the  wheel  and  put  on 
the  outside  of  the  cabin  wall,  and  the  berth  mat- 
tresses placed  between,  to  ward  off  the  bullets,  for 
the  Indians  had  guns  as  well  as  bows  and  arrows. 
This  was  completed  none  too  soon ;  the  barrels  con- 
taining coal  oil  being  easily  handled  were  hoisted 
out  and  rolled  on  shore  over  the  gang  planks.  By 
this  time  no  less  than  five  hundred  Grosventre  In- 
dians had  collected  on  the  bank,  and  believing  noth- 
ing but  "minnewa-kon"  (fire  water)  or  whiskey 
was  ever  contained  in  barrels,  they  were  getting 
ready  to  make  a  raid  on  the  stuff  and  have  a  glo- 
rious time.  To  make  sure  of  securing  the  entire  lot, 
they  had  moved  their  camp  down  to  the  river 
bank,  and  the  Indians  called  out  to  the  officers 
of  the  boat  that  they  would  make  a  raid  on  the 
barrels  and  if  they  met  any  opposition  they  would 
go  on  board  and  kill  everybody  on  the  boat. 

It  was  a  freight  steamer,  carrying  no  passengers, 
and  the  captain,  mate,  pilots,  cabin  boys,  "roust- 
abouts," etc.,  including  one  chamber-maid  (a 
white  woman),  did  not  exceed  twenty-five  all  told. 
The  boat  had  hauled  in  the  gang  plank,  and  being 


Down  the  Missouri  River  on  a  Steamboat  99 

fortified  as  above  stated,  they  had  nothing  to  fear 
against  the  five  hundred  Indians  on  shore.  The 
captain  had  sent  a  courier  on  foot  some  two  hun- 
dred miles  to  Fort  Benton  to  arrange  for  teams  and 
a  military  escort  from  Fort  Cook  to  guard  the 
teams  and  come  down  overland  after  the  cargo, 
which  was  quite  a  valuable  one,  and  the  captain  was 
loath  to  leave  it  unprotected,  having  been  in  that 
situation  already  ten  days,  and  no  one  but  the 
chamber-maid  (whom  we  afterward  took  on  board 
our  steamer,  bound  down)  caring  to  desert  the  un- 
fortunate boat.  We  tied  up  along  side  and  visited 
back  and  forth  for  two  or  three  hours.  The  ma- 
rooned crew  said  they  could  protect  themselves,  so 
we  cut  loose  and  proceeded  on  our  way  down  the 
river,  leaving  the  crew  on  board  the  sunken  steamer 
to  their  fate. 

I  learned  later  that  the  cargo  was  taken  off  safely 
and  delivered  by  freight  teams  with  a  government 
escort  at  Fort  Benton.  The  officers  and  crew  then 
took  passage  on  a  steamer  for  St.  Louis.  Much  of 
the  cargo  was  only  slightly  damaged  and  very  little 
was  lost.  Few  people,  except  the  rugged  navigators 
of  the  Missouri  in  early  days,  know  anything  of  the 
perils  of  such  a  voyage,  and  such  experiences. 

On  the  sunken  boat  a  night  watch  was  kept. 
Every  morning  arrows  were  found  on  the  hurricane 
deck  and  many  were  found  sticking  in  the  pilot 
house,  the  Indians  no  doubt  thinking  fhe  guard 
would  always  be  located  there. 


100  The  Pack  Train 

THE  PACK  TRAIN. 

One  of  the  most  picturesque  and  animated  scenes 
witnessed  on  one  of  our  many  mountain  hunts  was 
the  loaded  government  pack  train  under  Thomas 
Moore,  the  chief  packer  and  a  dozen  of  his  aids, 
coming  down  the  heavily  wooded  and  steep  moun- 
tain side  of  the  Sierra  Madre  mountains  on  our  re- 
turn from  Grand  Encampment  lake.  Each  animal 
carried  from  two  hundred  and  fifty  to  three  hundred 
pounds,  which  included  all  of  our  deer,  elk  and 
antelope.  When  we  reached  the  mountain  top,  all 
the  mules  came  to  a  halt ;  the  trails  down  the  moun- 
tain side  were  dim  and  scattering,  being  the  point 
at  which  the  mules  had  followed  game  trails  leading 
up  on  the  mountain  only  a  few  days  before.  Each 
mule  pricked  up  its  long  ears  and  looked  wisely  over 
the  ground  to  see  what  trail  it  would  follow.  A 
forest  of  pine  trees  and  jutting  ledges  of  rocks  cov- 
ered the  mountain  side.  Mr.  Moore  hailed  the 
hunters  and  said:  "You  hunters  pick  your  way 
ahead  of  the  bell  mare  and  mules,  and  keep  out  of 
their  way  or  you  will  be  run  over."  From  our  point 
of  view,  it  looked  easy  for  a  half  dozen  mounted 
hunters  to  keep  away  from  a  loaded  pack  train. 
Moore  yelled  to  the  gray  bell  mare,  "Go  on,  crazy," 
and  the  caravan  started  following  us.  In  many 
places  the  trees  grew  so  close  together  a  naked 
mule  could  scarcely  go  between  them,  a  pack  some- 
times adding  a  foot  on  each  side.  We  heard  the 
musical  voice  of  the  packers  and  the  slangy 
phrases  and  cuss  words  that  usually  accompany 
their  orders  to  the  mules.    Every  animal  picked  out 


Wild  Buffalo  in  a  Cattle  Pen  101 

his  own  route  and  started  on  a  lumbering  trot.  In 
a  few  minutes  they  were  about  to  overrun  us.  A 
pack  mule  would  start  between  two  trees  and  when 
the  narrow  space  caught  his  pack  on  both  sides,  he 
would  back  out  and  look  for  a  wider  opening.  This 
sometimes  delayed  the  animal,  and  his  eagerness  to 
keep  in  sound  of  the  bell  mare  would  often  drive 
him  almost  wild.  Going  around  the  point  of  a  rock, 
if  the  pack  struck  the  rock  on  one  side,  the  mule 
would  lean  over,  back  out  and  try  it  again.  This 
he  would  repeat  until  he  cleared  his  pack,  then  go 
on.  In  the  thickest  of  the  forest,  where  the  trees 
stood  very  close  together,  the  mules  became  thor- 
oughly tangled,  and  it  required  the  greatest  skill  of 
the  packers  to  straighten  them  out.  The  shavetails 
whinnied  and  thrashed  around  through  the  under- 
brush as  if  they  were  almost  mad,  and  when  re- 
leased, would  go  on  a  run  down  the  mountain  side. 
Apparently  their  aim  was  to  keep  within  sound  of 
the  bell  on  the  bell  mare.  When  this  was  lost  they 
were  like  a  ship  at  sea  without  a  rudder.  For- 
tunately the  hunters  reached  the  foot  of  the  moun- 
tain ahead  of  the  mules,  and  had  the  opportunity 
of  witnessing  the  skillful  way  in  which  each  mule 
dodged  the  trees  and  the  rocks  to  clear  his  pack,  and 
when  the  bottom  was  reached,  they  all  started  on  a 
stampede  to  find  the  bell  mare. 


WILD  BUFFALO  IN  A  CATTLE  PEN. 

When  F.  M.  Phillips  had  "cut  out  "  all  of  his  H 
brand  of  cattle  from  the  main  round-up  on  Fish 
creek,  twenty  miles  above  the  mouth  of  the  Chug- 


102  "Jane" 

water,  and  was  driving  them  home  to  his  ranch,  he 
discovered  a  wild  buffalo  bull  in  his  herd.  It  was 
not  an  unusual  thing  back  in  the  '70's  for  the  cow- 
boys in  rounding  up  cattle  to  find  a  stray  buffalo 
among  the  cattle.  The  only  attention  paid  to  this 
was  when  the  owner  had  "cut  out"  his  brand  to 
drive  back  on  his  own  range,  or  take  them  home  to 
"cut  out  the  beef"  for  shipment.  With  whichever 
herd  the  stray  buffalo  happened  to  follow,  it  was 
driven  along  with  the  cattle,  and  found  its  way  to 
the  branding  pen  or  in  with  the  "beef."  Phillips' 
corral  was  enclosed  with  logs  on  three  sides,  an  al- 
most precipitous  wall  of  rock  fifty  or  more  feet  high 
forming  the  fourth  side  of  the  corral,  and  it  was  so 
steep  that  cattle  could  not  climb  out — one  would 
imagine  that  even  a  mountain  sheep  could  not  scale 
the  wall.  Imagine,  then,  Mr.  PhilHps'  surprise  in 
looking  out  of  his  window  one  morning  to  see  this 
wild  buffalo  bull  almost  to  the  top  of  this  wall  of 
rock,  and  in  a  short  time  it  got  to  the  top  and 
scampered  away  over  the  open  plains. 


"JANE." 

The  many  inquiries,  "What  became  of  Jane?"  the 
buxom  Irish  woman  who  came  to  Thomas  Prowse's 
train  at  Kearney,  referred  to  in  the  first  chapter  of 
this  book,  lead  me  to  believe  that  the  following  sen- 
tence was  overlooked:  "When  the  train  reached 
Virginia  City,  its  destination,  it  was  disbanded, 
every  one  going  his  own  way." 

A  few  days  after  our  arrival  at  Virginia  City,  I 
met  Jane  on  Wallace  street,  and  in  reply  to  my  in- 


Side  Lights  on  a  Gold  Mining  Camp  103 

quiry, — "Have  you  found  a  gold  mine  yet?",  she 
said:  "Lord  bless  yon,  darlin',  I  worked  a  week  in 
the  Virginia  Hotel  pnd  got  $35.00.  Then  I  went  to 
washing  and  I'v  got  $75.00  in  gold  dusht  in  me 
buckskin  bag, — 'sure  Mike', — and  how  is  it  wid  ye?" 
Jane  "struck  it  rich"  when  she  invested  in  a  wash- 
board and  tub.  The  last  I  saw  of  her,  four  weeks 
after  our  arrival  at  Virginia  City,  she  was  working 
like  a  beaver  and  had  then  saved  $150.00  in  "dusht." 

♦    *    * 

SIDE  LIGHTS  ON  A  GOLD  MINING  CAMP. 

Only  general  reference  has  been  made  to  the  cu- 
rious population  of  Virginia  City,  Montana,  in  the 
year  1864.  While  "hanging  bees,"  and  banishing 
the  desperadoes  was  going  on,  the  moral  atmosphere 
of  Virginia  City  was  improving  each  day.  Aside 
from  this  class  there  were  others,  for  Alder  Gulch 
was  known  to  be  the  richest  and  most  extensive 
placer  diggings  ever  discovered,  and  it  attracted 
people  of  every  calling  in  life  from  all  over  the  coun- 
try. Within  a  year  from  its  discovery  it  contained 
6,000  people,  and  its  greatest  peculiarity  was  that 
among  the  number  not  two  dozen  women  were  in 
the  town.  There  were  a  few  heroic  wives  who  had 
borne  the  hardships  of  an  overland  trip,  with  their 
husbands;  aside  from  these,  the  remainder,  about  a 
dozen  were  adventuresses  who  gloried  in  such  eu- 
phonious names,  as  "The  Memphis  Iron  Clad,"  "The 
Dancing  Idiot,"  "Orum's  Pet,"  "Irish  Ann,"  "Nelly 
the  Bilk,"  "Zulu  Twins,"  "Salt  Lake  Kate,"  etc. 
There  were  also  a  few  of  the  younger  set  of  that  ilk 


104  Side  Lights  on  a  Gold  Mining  Camp 

that  were  the  principal  attractions  at  the  dance  halls. 
Occasionally  a  leader  of  the  above  named  ma- 
jority of  women,  accompanied  by  one  or  two  of  the 
same  set,  would  take  it  into  her  head  to  fill  up  to 
the  brim  on  champagne,  at  $10.00  per  bottle,  and 
go  forth  at  midnight  dressed  in  her  best  attire,  wear- 
ing diamonds  galore  to  "clean  out  the  dance  halls." 
Of  course  this  would  always  end  in  a  ruction  in 
which  everybody  in  the  room  would  take  a  hand. 
The  number  of  broken  heads  and  black  eyes  seen 
on  the  street  next  day,  could  be  counted  in  bunches. 
There  were  too  many  to  single  out.  Some  of  the 
upper  ten  of  this  class  of  women  had  respectable 
balances  to  their  credit  in  the  two  banks.  I 
was  buying  gold  dust  in  the  bank  of  Nowlan  & 
Weary,  and  this  was  one  of  the  first  places  to  get 
the  news  of  the  proceedings  of  the  night  before. 
Their  supply  of  gold  dust  gone,  diamonds  lost,  their 
faces  swollen,  their  tempers  ruffled,  their  burdens 
must  be  told  to  some. 

Con  Orum,  a  blacksmith  from  Denver,  Colorado, 
and  the  only  professional  prize  fighter  in  the  town 
at  the  time  referred  to,  kept  a  saloon  on  a  principal 
side  street.  Later  came  Paddy  Ryan  and  Patsey 
Marley,  then  Hugh  O'Neill,  who,  as  before  stated, 
was  one  of  Wells  Fargo's  men.  Each  one  of  these 
celebrities  had  his  friends  and  backers,  and  a  prize 
fight  was  arranged  between  Con  Orum  and  Patsey 
Marley,  to  come  off  in  an  unfinished  log  enclosure 
with  no  covering  overhead,  on  the  west  side  of 
Wallace  street,  below  Castner's  hotel,  some  time 
early  in  January,  1866,  with  the  mercury  twenty-five 
degrees    below    zero.     Ninety-seven    rounds    were 


Side  Lights  on  a  Gold  Mining  Camp  105 

fought  to  an  overflowing  house  of  as  rough  and 
motley  a  set  of  human  beings  as  ever  assembled,  at 
what  is  called  a  "prize  ring." 

Omaha's  robust  late  distinguished  citizen,  Count 
John  A.  Creighton,  was  one  of  the  witnesses 
to  the  affair.  There  are  a  few  others  now  living  in 
Omaha  who  were  present  as  well  as  myself.  Amuse- 
ments in  those  days  were  bull  fights,  bull  and  bear 
fights,  dog  fights  and  every  kind  of  a  fight  that  ma- 
terial could  be  had  for.  A  fight  between  a  Mexican 
bull  and  a  grizzly  bear  was  one  of  them.  I  recall 
the  time  when  citizens  of  that  day  and  in  that  place 
could  stand  some  pretty  hard  things,  but  this  occa- 
sion was  beyond  the  limit  and  not  a  few  citizens, 
who  did  not  care  to  mix  in  the  motley  audience  were 
invited  by  Mr.  Creighton  to  go  on  the  roof  of  his 
wholesale  grocery  store,  that  overlooked  the  ring 
to  witness  the  affair. 

Paddy  Ryan  who  was  a  "second"  in  the  prize 
fight,  was  the  same  Ryan  who  led  the  bread  and 
flour  riot  in  Virginia  City,  when  a  sack  of  flour  of 
ninety-eight  pounds  had  reached  the  price  of  $130.00 
in  gold  dust.  The  alloted  price  being  one  ounce  per 
sack,  when  flour  enough  to  make  a  biscuit  cost  half 
a  dollar,  the  miners  would  not  stand  for  it. 

Ryan,  with  an  empty  flour  sack  suspended  from 
the  top  of  a  pole  he  carried,  led  a  mob  into  every 
store,  cellar,  dugout,  and  residence,  followed  by 
teams,  and  made  the  owners  of  flour  divide.  The 
merchants  had  concealed  their  flour  in  every  con- 
ceivable place,  even  under  the  beds  of  the  miner's 
cabins,  in  holes  in  the  ground,  feeling  sure  that  the 


106  Side  Lights  on  a  Cold  Mining  Camp 

great  rise  in  the  price  of  the  staff  of  life,  would  be 
met  with  great  opposition  and  much  trouble. 

If  a  merchant  had  one  hundred  bags  in  his  store, 
the  levy  was  not  much  less  than  fifty  bags. 
If  a  private  dwelling  had  twenty  bags  hidden  under 
its  beds,  the  tribute  was  ten  of  them,  and  so  the 
mob  ransacked  the  town  and  took  the  surplus,  and 
in  less  than  twenty-four  hours  the  regular  price  of 
a  bag  of  flour  went  down  from  $130.00  to  $45.00. 

Professor  Dimsdale  who  was  at  that  time  editing 
the  only  newspaper  published  in  the  gold  camp, 
''The  Montana  Post,"  I  think,  was  there  and  in  his 
serial  notes,  afterwards  compiled  in  book  form  as 
"The  Vigilants  of  Montana,"  makes  a  somewhat 
meager  mention  of  these  conspicuous  events.  They 
would  now  seem  to  be  no  more  than  manufac- 
tured stories,  but  in  those  strenuous  days,  it  was 
best  to  be  circumspect  and  avoid  the  fate  the  toughs, 
who  were  later  hung  or  banished,  would  mete  out 
to  too  much  meddling.  No  doubt  there  are  many 
men  living,  who  think  the  editing  of  a  newspaper 
sometimes  is  attended  with  danger.  Compare  notes 
with  this  man  Dimsdale  and  he  will  be  praised  for 
the  courage  of  even  brief  mention. 

Some  time  after  the  Orum-Marley  prize  fight, 
Hugh  O'Neill,  came  up  to  Virginia  City  and  sly- 
foxed  around  some  months  and  finally  brought  about 
a  fight  between  himself  and  Con  Orum.  O'Neill  was 
a  head  taller  and  many  pounds  heavier  than  Orum, 
and  the  match  was  counted  uneven  for  weight  and 
size.  Their  fight  took  place  in  the  "Theatre  build- 
ing" over  on  a  side  street.  Ben.  H.  Barrows, 
who  was  in  Virginia  City  at  that  time,  and  is  now 


A  Miners'  Bread  Riot  107 

the  collector  of  customs  and  in  charge  of  the  Omaha 
postoffice  building,  will  bear  me  out  in  the  state- 
ment that  one  hundred  and  twenty-seven  rounds 
were  fought.  Of  all  sights  and  scenes  attending  a 
prize  fight,  I  doubt  if  this  has  ever  been  equalled. 
The  crowd  was  the  sight  of  a  life  time;  the  order 
maintained  has  never  been  excelled.  While  the  men 
were  unevenly  matched  in  weight  and  size,  their 
pluck  and  staying  qualities  were  evenly  balanced. 
The  outcome,  although  a  "drawn  battle,"  is  of  little 
consequence,  for  it  was  evidently  "fixed."  The 
oddity  of  the  affair  was  the  part  the  women  named 
herein  took  in  it.  Some  half  dozen  on  each  side  of 
the  "ropes."  At  the  end  of  each  round,  they  fairly 
deluged  their  favorites  with  perfumery  that  was 
used  as  lavishly  as  water  and  cost  $10.00,  a  bottle. 
As  for  the  betting,  the  entire  audience  would  not 
compare  with  the  planking  down  by  the  women  of 
from  ten  to  a  hundred  ounces  of  gold  dust  on  their 
man,  and  there  was  little  difference  in  the  number 
of  women  in  each  corner  besides  the  ropes,  all  of 
them  as  loud  and  hilarious  of  manner  as  the  very 
totighest  of  the  men. 


A  MINERS'  BREAD  RIOT. 

On  my  reaching  Silver  Bow  to  open  a  store  (with 
one  wagon  load  of  goods)  there  were  only  two  build- 
ings in  the  town,  one  a  store  operated  by  a  Mr. 
Dorwin,  a  man  of  sixty  years,  who  had  married  a 
school  teacher  from  Iowa  of  thirty  years  and  she 
kept  house  in  the  rear  of  his  log  store.  The  only 
cast  iron  cook  stove  within  a  range  of  eighty  miles — 


108  A  Miners'  Bread  Riot 

which  the  miners  had  repeatedly  offered  $300  for, 
was  owned  by  Mrs.  Dorwin.  I  started  an  opposition 
store  in  a  pretentious  two-story  log  building.  With- 
in a  range  of  five  miles  below  and  five  miles  above 
and  in  the  small  side  gulches,  were  perhaps  seventy- 
five  miners'  cabins  containing  a  population  of  two 
hundred  and  fifty  people,  all  men  and  about  one 
hundred  of  these  came  to  town  to  trade,  usually  on 
Sunday.  Flour  was  selling  at  $50  per  bag  of  ninety- 
eight  pounds  and  Dorwin  tried  at  once  to  induce  me 
to  raise  the  price  to  $75,  as  snow  on  the  main  range 
would  prevent  teams  from  bringing  flour  over  the 
divide  until  the  next  June,  unless  it  came  by  pack 
train,  four  months  hence;  but  this  I  refused  to  do. 
All  the  flour  I  had  was  twenty  bags  that  cost  me 
$25.00  per  sack  in  Virginia  City,  and  the  hauling  in 
dead  of  winter  near  a  hundred  miles  and  a  profit  of 
ten  per  cent  was  all  it  would  bear.  Sunday  Mr. 
Dorwin  was  waited  on  by  two  wagon  loads  of 
miners.  They  quietly  loaded  on  the  two  two-horse 
wagons  all  the  flour,  beans,  rice  and  crackers  the 
horses  could  haul,  paying  him  about  twenty-five 
per  cent  of  his  price  on  the  goods  taken  and  drove 
away.  These  provisions  they  distributed  among  the 
miners  at  cost,  informing  Mr.  Dorwin  that  at  a 
second  attempt  to  raise  the  price  of  the  "staff  of 
life"  he  might  be  found  at  the  end  of  an  inch  rope 
just  on  the  edge  of  town.  The  effect  which  this 
episode  had  on  my  own  business  was  to  increase  my 
trade,  which  continued  until  July,  when  I  disposed 
of  my  stock  and  started  for  Helena  to  arrange  for 
my  trip  of  two  thousand  miles  in  an  open  boat  down 
the  Missouri  river  to  Omaha. 


Lively  Staging  in  the  West  109 

LIVELY  STAGING  IN  THE  WEST. 

On  one  of  my  staging  trips  to  Salt  Lake  City, 
west  of  old  Fort  Bridger,  being  in  haste  to  get 
through  I  was  transferred  from  a  Concord  wagon 
to  a  lumber  wagon  carrying  only  the  mail  and  ex- 
press matter.  This  filled  the  wagon  and  I  climbed 
on  top  of  the  mail  sacks  lying  flat  and  holding  on 
as  best  I  could.  The  night  was  pitch  dark  and  if 
the  four  horses  had  not  been  white  I  doubt  if  the 
driver  could  have  seen  where  the  reins  held  in  his 
hands  led  to.  A  dare-devil  young  fellow  called 
"Spense"  was  the  driver.  Whether  he  was  familiar 
with  the  crooked  and  rocky  road  and  the  bridges 
made  of  poles  crossing  the  stream  every  200  yards, 
or  depended  on  the  horses'  knowing  the  way,  I 
could  not  tell.  He  raced  them  down  the  canyon  on 
a  full  gallop,  perhaps  for  my  benefit.  I  hung  on  to 
the  mail  bags.  They  slipped  and  slid  around  and  I 
was  in  constant  danger  of  sliding  oflf.  If  this  had 
happened,  I  doubt  it  Spense  would  have  known  it 
until  reaching  the  next  station,  for  he  was  very 
busy  driving  and  yelling  at  the  horses.  We  drove 
into  the  swing  station  after  fifteen  miles  at  a  terrific 
speed  and  here  I  laid  over  to  wait  for  the  first 
coach,  which  came  two  days  later.  There  being  a 
vacant  seat  I  continued  my  journey. 

For  many  years  I  carried  it  in  my  mind  to  ''even 
up"  with  Spense,  if  I  ever  found  him  in  the  canyons, 
about  Omaha  or  anywhere  else  oflF  his  own  beat. 
This  is  the  sequel : 

Many  years  after  this  wild,  midnight  ride,  when  I 
became  post  trader  at  Fort  Laramie,  the  Patrick 


110  Lively  Staging  in  the  West 

brothers  ran  a  stage  line  from  Cheyenne  to  the 
Black  Hills  by  the  way  of  Fort  Laramie.  It  was  in 
the  palmy  days  of  "road  agents"  and  "hold  ups." 
There  came  a  new  driver  on  the  line  and  he  was  put 
on  from  Fort  Laramie  north.  I  had  occasion  to  ask 
his  name  before  he  had  made  many  trips.  To  my 
great  surprise,  it  proved  to  be  "Spense,"  the  crazy 
driver  who  took  me  down  Echo  canyon  years  be- 
fore. Here  was  a  morsel  of  satisfaction  to  me  and 
I  soon  began  planning  to  even  up  with  Spense,  for 
he  was  the  tenderfoot  now.  I  began  planning  with 
the  stage  employes  to  have  him  taken  over  on  Deer 
creek  on  a  "snipe  hunt"  by  night  and  lost  in  the 
woods.  When  the  plan  was  fairly  under  way 
Spense  drove  in  from  the  north  one  forenoon  for 
the  mail.  He  was  rattled  and  nervous  and  wanted 
to  quit  his  job  then  and  there.  I  happened  to  be 
standing  in  the  front  door  and  he  told  the  following 
story,  the  slangy  expressions  he  used  were  more 
expressive  than  even  the  simplified  spelling  of  to- 
day.   He  said: 

"I  had  a  jolt  last  night.  I  doubled  out  from 
Lance  creek  to  the  first  'red  hold-up  holler.'  Two 
men  jumped  for  the  leaders,  fired  a  couple  of  shots 
and  told  me  to  stop.  One  was  a  little  slim  cuss, 
the  other  a  fat  red-headed  rooster.  They  told  me 
as  perlite  as  a  school  marm,  *if  I  moved  an  inch 
they'd  drop  me  off  the  box  full  o'  holes.'  So  I 
obeyed  orders.  Two  other  fellows  told  the  passen- 
gers to  get  out,  throw  down  their  guns  and  hold  up 
their  hands.  They  made  me  throw  the  mail  sacks 
out.  The  treasury  box  was  built  in  the  hind  seat 
of  the  coach  and  they  appeared  to  know  the  com- 


Lively  Staging  in  the  West  111 

pany's  grain  wagon  was  a  little  ways  back  and  there 
was  not  much  time  to  finish  their  job.  After  they 
got  the  guns  and  all  the  money  and  jewelry  from 
the  passengers  they  got  into  their  saddles  and  told 
me  to  'hit  up  the  trail  hard  and  not  look  back.'  I 
threw  the  silk  into  the  leaders  and  there  didn't  any 
grass  grow  under  their  feet  into  Rawhide  station." 

Not  two  weeks  after  the  hold-up,  the  stage  going 
up  contained  the  "fat  red-headed  rooster"  and  *'the 
little  slim  cuss"  in  irons,  in  charge  of  deputy  mar- 
shals going  towards  Deadwood.  It  was  late  in  the 
evening  when  they  took  supper  at  the  Rustic  hotel. 
One  of  my  employes,  Dan  Fitzgerald,  was  a 
passenger  and  got  off  there.  With  the  usual  change 
of  horses  the  stage  with  four  passengers  drove  on. 
At  the  Platte  ford,  two  miles  away,  the  stage  was 
delayed  at  the  crossing.  The  next  day  was  Sunday. 
All  the  cavalry  was  out  in  that  direction,  exercising 
their  horses.  Along  the  trail  just  under  a  bluff 
one  company  halted  and  the  sergeant  sent  an  or- 
derly back  to  report  to  Colonel  A.  W.  Evans,  in 
command.     ''Two  men  hung  at  the   Platte  ford." 

With  my  grey  bronchos  Colonel  Evans  and  myself 
drove  over  to  the  place  designated  and  we  found 
the  "little  slim  cuss"  tied  hands  and  feet  hanging 
to  a  Cottonwood  limb,  dead,  the  "red  headed  rooster" 
lying  on  the  ground  at  his  feet,  he  having  been  hung 
then  cut  down  to  make  room  for  hanging  the  "little 
slim  cuss."  Being  shy  of  halter  rope  only  one  could 
be  hung  at  a  time. 

It  was  soon  noised  around  the  garrison  that  a 
party  had  met  the  coach,  taken  the  two  road  agents 
out  and  told  the  driver  to  "move  on."     No  further 


112  Guarding  a  Prisoner 

particulars  could  be  obtained.  The  "hold  up  of 
Spense"  and  the  robbing  of  his  passengers  had  been 
avenged. 


GUARDING  A  PRISONER. 

When  I  sold  goods  in  Silver  Bow  one  ''jerky" 
stage  with  two  horses  carried  passengers  and  the 
mail  from  Johnnie  Grant's  ranch  on  the  Deer  Lodge, 
up  to  Silver  Bow,  thence  over  the  Pipe  jStone 
range,  which  was  the  main  Rocky  Mountain  divide, 
to  Virginia  City.  The  waters  on  the  west  side  of 
the  low  narrow  ridge  run  into  the  Deer  Lodge, 
through  Pend  Oreille,  Hell  Gate  and  Bitter  Root 
into  the  Columbia  river  and  the  Pacific  ocean. 
Within  a  stone's  throw  a  spring  headed  the  waters 
flowing  to  the  Jefferson,  one  of  the  three  forks  of 
the  Missouri  river  and  into  the  Gulf  of  Mexico  and 
the  Atlantic  ocean. 

To  replenish  my  stock  of  goods,  it  was  necessary 
for  me  to  go  to  Virginia  City  occasionally.  The 
stage  went  once  a  week  and  passed  through  Silver 
Bow  going  west  in  the  afternoon  returning  at  once, 
and  arriving  at  Silver  Bow  going  east  again  about 
two  a.  m.  It  was  necessary  to  engage  passage  as 
the  stage  went  west  to  be  sure  of  a  seat  in  the  coach 
going  east  soon  after  midnight.  At  two  a.  m.  I  was 
called  out  to  take  the  stage.  My  only  baggage  was 
a  hundred  ounces  of  Silver  Bow  gold  dust,  worth 
in  trade  $13  an  ounce.  I  climbed  into  the  coach  and 
found  two  fellow  passengers. 


A  Nez  Perces  Squaw  113 

"Get  on  the  back  seat  with  me,  Collins,"  was  my 
greeting  from  a  Doctor  Day,  who  was  either  a 
United  States  or  a  county  marshal,  and  whose  voice 
I  recognized.  We  had  rolled  along  some  four  miles, 
to  the  foot  of  the  divide,  when  I  felt  a  frequent 
nudging  and  I  was  not  long  in  understanding  the 
meaning  of  the  maneuvers.  The  doctor  handed  me 
a  Colt's  revolver  and  said : 

"Mr.  Collins,  I  depend  on  you  as  my  assistant. 
This  man  is  my  prisoner  from  Fort  Owen  and  I  de- 
pend on  you  to  assist  in  guarding  him." 

There  I  was,  inside  a  coach,  curtains  all  buttoned 
down,  with  a  marshal  who  had  a  "road  agent"  in 
irons,  both  feet  and  arms  shackled  and  I  was  ex- 
pected to  assist  in  seeing  that  he  would  be  safely 
delivered  into  the  hands  of  the  vigilantes  in  Virginia 
City,  perhaps  to  be  hung  within  an  hour  of  his  ar- 
rival. 

Our  duty  was  performed,  and  in  half  an  hour  after 
our  arrival  in  Virginia  City  the  prisoner  was  hanged.. 


A  NEZ  PERCES  SQUAW. 

In  my  somewhat  varied  life  of  travel  my  business 
west  of  the  Missouri  river  carried  me  among  over 
forty  thousand  Indians  of  the  various  tribes  during 
fourteen  or  fifteen  years  and  I  had  an  opportunity 
of  seeing  as  much  of  their  mode  of  living,  occupa- 
tion, dress  and  habits  as  many  of  the  early  trappers 
and  traders  who  had  lived  among  them  years  be- 
fore. 


114  A  Nez  Perces  Squaw 

''Indian  beauty"  is  one  of  the  things  looked  for 
by  all  people  who  travel  among  Indians.  As  for 
myself,  I  saw  one  solitary  squaw  who  could  be 
called  a  beauty.  She  belonged  to  the  Nez  Perces 
tribe,  which  a  long  while  before  began  its  deviltry 
among  the  whites  with  Chief  Joseph  at  its  head. 
In  time  he  gathered  his  entire  band  from  out  in 
Oregon  and  began  a  raid  through  the  settlements 
east  of  Hell  Gate,  Bitter  Root,  Deer  Lodge  and 
through  Montana,  crossing  the  Missouri  above  old 
Fort  Peck  and  was,  with  his  entire  band,  captured 
by  United  States  troops  just  before  reaching  the 
British  possessions.  The  whole  tribe  was  sent  down 
into  the  Everglades  of  Florida  to  remain  prisoners 
until  they  learned  more  of  the  peaceable  ways  of 
the  whites. 

It  was  many  years  before  this,  when  I  began 
storekeeping  with  one  wagon  load  of  goods  in  Silver 
Bow,  that  a  dozen  lodges  of  the  Nez  Perces  camped 
on  Brown  creek,  two  miles  north  of  Silver  Bow,  to 
trap  beaver  and  otter.  They  were  well  fitted  out 
with  a  band  of  about  a  hundred  ponies  of  a  mixed 
breed  called  "piebald,"  "pinto"  and  "calico,"  red 
woolen  blankets,  fair  leathern  saddles,  etc.,  and 
were  better  equipped  than  any  small  band  I  ever 
met.  They  also  had  gold  coin  in  $5,  $10  and  $20 
pieces. 

The  band  came  to  my  store,  two  miles  from  their 
camp,  to  trade,  paying  cash  for  all  their  purchases. 
They  were  middle-aged  or  young  men  and  women. 
The  first  that  came  to  the  store  was  a  baker's  dozen 
of  as  decent  an  appearing  lot  of  the  "copper  colored" 
as  I  have  ever  seen.    There  was  a  tall,  well  propor- 


A  Nez  Perces  Squaw  115 

tioned,  sleek-haired  young  fellow  who  acted  as  in- 
terpreter. He  told  me  he  did  not  belong  to  the 
tribe.  His  grandfather  was  one  of  the  Hudson  Bay 
company's  French  voyagers  and  he  came  from  the 
French  half-breeds  at  Fort  Berthold  with  a  train 
of  ox  carts,  fell  in  with  a  war  party  of  Lacotas  and 
drifted  over  among  the  Pend  Oreille  Indians,  and 
when  with  his  little  band  in  camp  on  Brown  creek, 
he  saw  a  pretty  squaw,  he  had  rounded  up  his  herd 
of  twenty  ponies  and  had  come  along  with  the  band 
"to  get  her." 

Occasionally  this  pretty  young  woman  would 
come  to  my  store  without  him  and  with  four  or  five 
women.  She  was  the  only  one  among  them  who 
could  by  signs  make  me  understand  their  wants. 
She  was  of  medium  size,  not  stout,  with  but  a  slight 
tinge  of  copper  in  her  complexion,  a  clear,  chiseled 
face  with  eyes  like  diamonds,  lips  clean  cut,  a  pretty 
mouth,  and  teeth  so  white  and  perfect  that  a  white 
beauty  of  any  "four-hundred"  might  envy  them ;  her 
hair  was  fine,  soft  and  glossy  and  fell  in  loose  waves 
over  her  shoulders;  her  ears  thin  and  almost  trans- 
parent; she  wore  no  other  ornaments  than  a  string 
of  large  blue  beads  around  her  neck  and  a  coil  of 
German  silver  around  one  wrist.  She  was  dressed 
in  a  striped  calico  skirt,  black  broadcloth  leggings 
embroidered  in  silk,  deer-skin  shirt  and  moccasins, 
a  bright  plaid  shawl  over  her  shoulders  and  her 
tout  en  semble  was  topped  off  with  a  wide-brimmed, 
mouse-colored  soft  hat  with  a  string  under  her  chin 
to  hold  it  in  place  on  the  back  of  her  head.  She  rode 
a  handsome  little  bay  mare  and  when  mounted 
astride  hers  was  a  picturesque  figure.     But  riding 


116  Sixty  Thousand  Dressed  Buffalo  Hides 

was  not  her  proper  stunt  and  did  not  show  her 
charms  to  the  best  advantage. 

One  moonlight  night,  after  midnight,  the  half- 
breed  awakened  me  and  said  this  girl  was  sick  and 
he  came  for  a  bottle  of  "Red  Jacket  bitters."  I  got 
out  of  my  bunk,  gave  him  the  bitters  and  he  said, 
"she  pay"  and  rode  off. 

In  a  few  days  another  bunch  came  to  the  store 
and  brought  me  a  string  of  trout  and  the  young  girl 
accompanying  them,  did  not  offer  to  liquidate  for 
the  bitters,  but  handed  me  a  smoked  buckskin  gold 
dust    bag,    nicely    embroidered    in    colored    silk. 

This  bag  I  have  retained  all  these  years,  and  now 
it  holds  some  small  nuggets  and  specimens  of  gold 
I  picked  up  in  various  mining  camps. 


SIXTY  THOUSAND  DRESSED  BUFFALO  HIDES. 

After  arranging  for  the  driving  of  the  herd  of 
mules  to  Carbon  on  the  Union  Pacific  railroad,  which 
the  Indians  took  possession  of  soon  after  their  ar- 
rival, I  took  the  Wells,  Fargo  company's  stage  for 
Salt  Lake  City  to  make  inquiry  for  several  loads  of 
saddlery  goods  started  from  Omaha  by  team  over- 
land late  in  the  summer  previous  and  snowed  in  in 
the  mountains  east  of  Salt  Lake  City,  where  they 
remained  until  early  spring.  When  the  spring  thaw 
came  the  owner  of  the  train,  to  whom  I  paid  $25.00 
per  thousand  pounds  freight,  finally  brought  his 
train  into  Salt  Lake  with  the  merchandise  in  good 
order.  I  sold  out  the  entire  lot  to  Eldridge,  Clawson 
&  Company  of  the  Zion  co-operative  store,  and  re- 


Sixty  Thousand  Dressed  Buffalo  Hides  117 

turned  to  Helena  by  stage  where  I  again  spent 
some  time  waiting  for  the  arrival  of  the  first  steam- 
boat from  St.  Louis,  that  would  leave  Fort  Benton 
for  down  river  after  unloading  its  cargo  and  try  to 
make  a  second  trip  up  the  Missouri  the  same  season. 
The  first  boat  to  arrive  and  unload  was  the  big 
stern-wheeler,  "Cora."  I  went  by  team  from  Helena 
to  Fort  Benton  and  embarked  for  Omaha.  While 
these  commonplace  events  may  not  thus  far  interest 
the  reader  it  is  necessary  to  relate  them  in  order  to 
bring  forward  the  following  facts. 

There  was  little  or  no  freight  going  down  the 
river  except  dressed  buflfalo  hides,  worth  at  whole- 
sale $2.50  each,  packed  in  bales  of  ten.  The  Cora 
took  on  board  all  that  were  ready  for  shipment  and 
started  immediately  on  the  down  trip.  Both  the 
cabin  and  deck  carried  a  full  quota  of  returning 
miners,  every  one  of  them  with  gold  dust  in  buck- 
skin bags.  Half  an  hour  after  leaving  Fort  Benton 
the  bell  announced  that  dinner  was  ready.  The 
cabin  on  each  side  of  the  table  was  lined  with  the 
rough  and  burly  miners,  (at  least  double  in  number 
what  the  boat  registered  to  carry)  who,  by  occupy- 
ing a  chair  would  be  sure  of  a  seat  at  the  first  table, 
so  they  stood  holding  on  to  it  until  the  second  bell 
would  ring.  To  understand  the  determination  of 
these  passengers  to  be  first  at  the  table,  a  stranger 
needed  but  to  try  to  edge  in  and  get  in  advance  of 
one  of  these  men.  All  of  the  passengers  wore  re- 
volvers strapped  to  their  waists  and  the  sight  of 
these  articles  was  enough  to  show  that  they  were 
carried  for  a  purpose.  As  soon  as  the  table  cloth 
was  spread  the  miners  gradually  edged  up  towards 


118  Sixty  Thousand  Dressed  Buffalo  Hides 

it  and  before  dinner  was  announced,  every  chair 
along  the  wall  of  the  cabin  was  occupied.  When 
dinner  was  ready  the  occupant  of  each  chair  pushed 
it  up  in  front  of  a  plate  and  stood  by  with  his  re- 
volver and  his  belt  of  cartridges  convenient.  Not 
more  than  one-fourth  of  the  passengers  could  be 
seated  at  one  table.  When  they  finished,  a  second 
table  was  set  and  the  same  process  of  getting  pos- 
session of  a  chair  was  gone  through  with  again.  It 
required  four  separate  tables  at  each  meal  to  serve 
the  cabin  passengers.  Setting  twelve  tables  a  day 
took  from  four  o'clock  in  the  morning  until  ten 
o'clock  at  night.  The  cabin  was  actually  overrun. 
Every  passenger  not  having  a  berth  had  a  bundle 
of  bedding  which  was  thrown  on  deck  outside  of 
the  cabin  along  the  guards. 

Passengers  fortunate  enough  to  have  secured 
berths,  (each  berth  containing  two  single  bunks) 
were  not  allowed  to  occupy  them  alone.  Six  people 
would  be  the  allotment  and  they  were  occupied  six 
hours  by  each  occupant,  in  relays.  The  table  was 
very  poorly  supplied  and  by  the  time  the  boat  had 
reached  a  trading  post  below  Milk  river  provisions 
began  to  run  very  low.  At  an  Indian  agency  I 
bought  a  bag  full  of  dried  buffalo  tongues  and  for 
the  following  ten  days  the  supply  of  provisions 
was  bread  and  crackers,  beans  and  rice,  coffee  and 
buffalo  tongue.  When  ten  o'clock  at  night  came, 
the  miners  placed  all  the  chairs  out  on  the  guards 
and  bunked  down  on  the  floor  and  from  the  bow  to 
the  stern  of  the  cabin,  there  was  not  a  foot  of  space 
unoccupied.  The  most  difficult  task  for  the  miners 
was  to  secrete  the  bags  of  dust  they  carried  on  their 


Weighing  a  Grizzly  Bear  119 

persons  and  all  lay  down  not  only  with  their  clothes 
on,  but  with  their  revolvers  and  cartridges  also.  We 
were  twenty  days  making  the  voyage. 

At  all  the  trading  posts  along  the  river,  bales  of 
buffalo  robes  were  taken  on  board.  The  largest 
number  being  from  Fort  Union,  at  the  mouth  of  the 
Yellowstone;  Fort  Berthold  and  old  Fort  Peck. 
When  the  cargo  was  all  on  I  asked  the  clerk  how 
many  bales  he  had  on  board.  After  carefully  cal- 
culating the  lots  from  each  landing  he  handed  me 
the  manifest.  The  "Cora"  carried  sixty  thousand 
robes,  almost  equaling  in  weight  its  entire  tonnage. 
At  Yankton  and  at  Sioux  City  the  largest  part  of 
the  cargo  was  unloaded,  the  balance  going  to  St. 
Louis. 


WEIGHING  A  GRIZZLY  BEAR. 

''Cap,  I  want  you  to  weigh  a  bear."  These  words 
were  said  to  me  by  a  grizzled,  weather-worn,  ragged, 
old  hunter  with  so  much  hair  on  his  face  and  neck 
he  might  have  passed  for  the  wild  man  of  the  woods. 
His  head  was  bandaged  in  rags,  one  arm  cut  out  of 
his  coat  sleeve  and  if  I  ever  saw  a  white  man  who 
looked  the  picture  of  distress  he  was  the  man.  A 
crowd  at  once  gathered  around  his  wagon  and  it 
was  easy  to  get  men  to  "lend  a  hand"  and  drag  the 
big  bear  to  the  scales  inside  the  store.  Thirteen 
hundred  and  sixty-five  pounds  was  the  actual  weight. 
When  the  bear  was  loaded  back  into  the  wagon  with 
bison,  elk,  moose  and  deer,  the  disfigured  hunter 
told  the  following  story  : 


120  Weighing  a  Grizzly  Bear 

*'It  was  this  way.  You  see,  Cap,  Dan  and  me  (Dan 
is  my  pardner,  see?)  were  camped  over  in  the  Galla- 
tin valley  hunting  for  market,  see?  The  cussed  var- 
mints were  so  bad  we  built  a  corral  of  fallen  pine 
logs  to  store  our  game  in  until  we  had  a  full  load  for 
market.  The  next  day  we  were  going  to  "pull  our 
freight"  for  Virginia  City  and  top  out  the  load  with 
black  tail  deer  that  we  could  kill  anywhere  on  the 
road  in  any  quantity.  I  was  coming  to  the  corral 
from  the  west  leading  my  horse  with  a  young  moun- 
tain lion  behind  the  saddle,  when  this  here  big  brute 
made  a  pass  at  jumping  out  of  the  corral  where  he 
had  been  feeding  on  our  game.  Hearing  my  partner 
coming  from  the  east  it  was  trying  to  escape  not 
having  seen  or  heard  me.  Then  it  turned  and  ran 
back  and  Dan  and  the  brute  came  together.  By  the 
time  I  could  run  around  the  fence  they  were  mixed, 
tearing  through  the  underbrush.  When  the  bear 
left  Dan  it  came  for  me  and  with  one  paw  raked  me 
down  from  head  to  waist  and  before  it  could  get  its 
mouth  on  me  Dan's  45  bullet  broke  his  neck.  It  was 
a  close  shave  for  me.  I  had  about  an  even  chance 
of  being  killed  by  the  shot  or  chawed  up  by  the  bear. 
The  next  morning  we  loaded  up  for  town.  That 
was  three  days  ago." 


LAKES  aiid  WOODS  nf  WISCONSIN 

In  the  spring  of  1895,  with  Charles  Turner  of 
Omaha,  I  visited  the  lakes  and  woods  of  Wisconsin. 
Mr.  Turner  had  been  a  woodsman  in  early  life, — 
being  a  surveyor  by  profession, — and  the  part  of 
Wisconsin  which  we  visited  was  his  old  stamping 
ground.  He  told  me  that  as  I  was  not  familiar  with 
the  timber  country,  there  would  be  something  new 
and  interesting  in  the  trip, — very  different  from 
plains  and  mountain  life. — and,  as  we  shall  see,  his 
predictions  were  true. 

J.  B.  Mann  was  the  proprietor  of  a  fishing  lodge 
on  lower  Trout  lake,  in  the  region  known  as  "Toma- 
hawk Group"  in  the  Wisconsin  woods.  Before 
reaching  the  town  of  Tomahawk,  not  far  from 
Minneacqua,  we  came  to  a  logging  camp.  At  the 
station  a  burly  lot  of  Finlanders  got  aboard  the 
train.  These  men  had  been  in  the  woods  all  winter 
engaged  in  logging  and  had  just  received  their  pay, 
and  were  on  their  way  to  Tomahawk  to  spend  their 
earnings.  "Bootleggers"  and  vendors  of  cheap 
liquor  had  located  near  the  logging  station  and  all 
of  the  Finns  were  more  or  less  under  the  influence 
of  liquor.  The  conductor  had  a  disagreeable  time 
getting  the  men  loaded  on  the  cars.  They  staggered 
into  the  train  and  down  the  isles  as  only  drunken 
men  could  do,  dropping  into  seats  and  sprawling 
about.  They  were  dressed  in  the  clothing  of  all 
lumbermen — suits  of  striped  kersey  blanket  cloth, 
heavy  cowhide  shoes,  the  soles  filled  with  spikes 


122  Lakes  and  Woods  of  Wisconsin 

half  an  inch  long.  The  crowd  was  a  little  too  rough 
for  the  other  passengers,  who,  with  Mr.  Turner  and 
myself,  went  into  the  baggage  car. 

A  few  hours  brought  us  to  Tomahawk  station 
where  all  the  Finns  got  off. 

About  the  station  and  in  the  town  the  big  trees 
had  been  cut  down,  the  stumps  still  standing  and  the 
buildings  were  of  unplaned  boards  running  up  and 
down  and  battened.  Some  outside  walls  were 
shingled  but  there  was  no  paint  on  any  building, — 
the  latter  omission  being  of  little  consequence,  how- 
ever, as  the  Finns  immediately  started  in  to  ''paint 
the  town." 

At  the  station  before  reaching  Tomahawk  the 
operator  had  told  the  conductor  to  look  out  for  a 
forest  fire  that  might  cross  the  track.  We  were  not 
long  in  running  into  the  clouds  of  smoke  and  floa- 
ting embers.  Ahead  of  us  was  a  narrow  streak  of 
light  where  a  strip  of  the  timber  had  been  cut 
through  and  on  a  clear  day  one  could  see  miles 
ahead.  The  trees  cut  by  the  railroad  along  the  right- 
of-way  were  piled  up  as  cord  wood  near  the  track 
fully  ten  feet  high  and  three  or  four  hundred  feet 
long  and  near  enough  to  the  track  to  be  handed  to 
the  fireman  on  the  tender.  After  we  left  the  station 
and  reached  the  smoke  from  the  fire,  the  train  came 
to  a  stop,  the  crew  climbed  out  and  met  the  con- 
ductor, and  the  passengers  were  then  called  in  con- 
sultation to  size  up  the  situation.  The  engineer 
said:  *Tf  the  ties  ahead  of  us  are  not  burning  I  do 
not  think  the  rails  are  hot  enough  to  warp  and  we 
can  make  it  if  we  can  'take  a  run  at  it.'  There  is 
not  water  enough  in  the  tank  to  carry  us  to  the  next 


Lakes  and  Woods  of  Wisconsin  123 

station  back  and  we  have  got  to  make  it,  or  lay  up 
and  send  back  for  water,  and  by  that  time  the  rails 
will  be  hot  and  warped  and  we  can't  go  ahead.  We 
must  decide  quickly  what  we  will  do." 

It  was  decided  to  run  slowly  through  the  smoke 
until  we  reached  the  fire,  and  then  be  governed  by 
circumstances.  The  conductor  cried  ''All  aboard" 
and  we  started. 

We  soon  reached  the  burning  trees  and  piles  of 
wood  which  were  on  fire  on  both  sides  of  the  track, — 
a  mass  of  flames  and  red  coals.  The  ties  were  all 
right  as  far  as  could  be  seen.  "Shall  we  try  it?" 
asked  the  engineer,  consulting  the  passengers.  It 
was  decided  we  should,  and  all  the  car  windows  and 
doors  were  tightly  closed.  With  a  prolonged  whistle 
we  backed  down  a  half  mile;  another  long  whistle 
and  we  started  ahead.  The  puffing  of  the  engine 
was  slow  at  first,  then  faster  and  faster.  We  were 
running  through  a  blaze  of  flames  all  about  us 
Faster  and  faster  the  train  flew.  The  heat  came 
through  the  glass  windows  so  that  we  were  com- 
pelled to  huddle  in  the  aisles.  There  appeared  a 
streak  of  fire  on  both  sides  of  the  car  and  the  smoke 
coming  through  the  cracks  of  the  doors  and  win- 
dows nearly  stifled  us.  Five  minutes  of  this  and  we 
should  be  lying  in  the  aisles  suffocated.  The  en- 
gineer could  not  see  the  smoke  stack. 

Our  speed  was  terrific — a  mile  a  minute  and 
even  faster.  "Will  we  make  it?"  asked  the  passen- 
gers. The  answer  came :  "We  will  die  in  our  tracks 
if  we  do  not." 

Presently  there  came  a  long  shrill  whistle, — a 
signal  that  we  were  out  of  the  woods  and  safe. 


124  Lakes  and  Woods  of  Wisconsin 

The  train  stopped  and  all  hands  got  out,  took  a 
long  breath,  and  looked  to  see  what  damage  had 
been  done  to  the  cars.  ''God,  it  was  hot,"  said  the 
engineer  as  he  almost  fell  out  of  the  engine  cab. 
Look  at  the  blisters  on  the  coaches,"  said  the  con- 
ductor; "but  we  are  all  right.  All  aboard,"  and  in  a 
few  minutes  we  were  at  Minoqua,  the  last  station 
on  the  line. 

I  reminded  Mr.  Turner  that  he  had  told  me  I 
would  see  some  new  things  on  the  trip  and  asked 
if  he  counted  this  as  one  of  them.  *'Yes,"  he 
answered,  ''the  Finns  was  one  and  this  is  number 
two,  and  we  are  not  yet  at  the  fishing  grounds." 

The  next  morning  a  spring  wagon  took  us  to 
Mann's  lodge,  over  a  new  road  where  the  trees  had 
recently  been  cut  to  open  a  new  trail.  Mann's  lodge 
is  a  log  cabin,  with  partitions  of  rough-sawed,  un- 
planed  boards,  with  its  porches  housed  in  with  wire 
netting,  for  mosquitos  were  there  by  the  million. 
Fully  twenty-five  fishermen  had  arrived  ahead  of  us 
and  were  preparing  their  tackle  for  the  next  morn- 
ing. Half  a  dozen  Chippewa  Indians  were  on  hand 
to  act  as  guides,  at  from  $3.00  to  $3.50  per  day,  the 
use  of  a  birch  bark  canoe  being  50  cents  extra,  and 
a  clinker-built  boat  was  $1.00  extra. 

We  engaged  a  six-foot,  two  hundred  pound,  raw- 
boned  "Kanuck"  and  an  Indian  named  John  Cat- 
fish to  row  our  boats,  carry  packs  and  make  port- 
ages. A  Chippewa  Indian  will  carry  a  pack  of  one 
hundred  pounds  on  his  back,  and  on  his  head  and 
shoulders  above  this  he  will  add  a  birch  bark  canoe, 
carrying  the  load  one  or  two  miles  without  resting, 


Lakes  and  Woods  of  Wisconsin  125 

and  at  a  pace  that  will  worry  an  ordinary  white  man 
to  keep  up  with. 

In  much  of  the  timbered  country  in  Wisconsin 
there  is  more  water  than  land, — lakes  and  swamps 
where  horses  cannot  travel,  with  but  few  trails  and 
roads.  The  Indians  traveling  through  this  country 
carry  their  birch  bark  canoes,  blankets  and  provi- 
sions over  portages  leading  from  one  lake  to  an- 
other on  their  route.  It  is  a  time-honored  custom  to- 
leave  a  tin  can  or  plate  with  pitch  gathered  from 
the  Norway  pine  trees  and  mixed  with  charcoal  to 
repair  leaks  in  the  canoes  at  a  portage.  When  a 
leak  has  to  be  mended  a  fire  is  built  and  by  the  aid 
of  a  lighted  torch  a  flame  is  blown  into  the  pitch 
until  it  is  melted  and  then  poured  onto  the  damaged 
boat  until  the  break  it  covered.  When  the  pitch  is 
cold  the  work  is  ended.  If  it  is  a  puncture  a  piece 
of  cloth  is  laid  on  covering  the  hole  and  the  hot 
pitch  is  then  applied.  To  resume  the  journey  the 
boatman  lashes  the  paddle  from  one  cross-piece  ta 
another  and  a  stick  of  the  same  length  is  made  fast 
to  the  cross  piece  also,  forming  a  yoke.  The  canoe 
is  turned  bottom  up,  the  boatman  walks  under  and 
it  is  balanced  upon  his  shoulders. 

Our  first  day's  excursion  was  in  the  nature  of  a 
prospecting  trip  to  upper  Trout  lake.  When  our 
party  was  nearing  the  head  of  the  lake  Mr.  Turner 
said:  "Pull  over  to  the  point  where  the  hemlock 
tree  stands,"  and  as  we  landed  on  the  beach,  Mr. 
Turner  continued:  "When  I  surveyed  in  this  coun- 
try forty  years  ago  carrying  my  tripod,  compass  and 
what  little  provisions  and  blankets  I  could  add,  I 
camped  alone  under  this  tree.     Then  it  was  about 


J.26  Lakes  and  Woods  of  Wisconsin 

four  inches  in  diameter;  now  it  will  measure  nearly 
twenty." 

We  made  a  fire  under  the  hemlock  and  took  lunch. 

I  wish  it  were  possible  to  describe  the  joy  and 
real  satisfaction  that  this  event  gave  Mr.  Turner. 
Grown  men  often  remember  some  particular  spot 
where,  in  their  younger  days,  some  of  their  pleasant- 
est  moments  were  spent,  and  nothing  gives  them 
more  pleasure  than  to  visit  that  spot  at  some  later 
day  in  their  lives.  This  point  was  Mr.  Turner's 
haven.  Loitering  here  a  few  hours  and  drifting 
leisurely  back  to  camp  we  reached  the  lodge  about 
dark  with  a  dozen  or  more  lake  trout,  weighing 
from  two  to  four  pounds  each.  All  the  fishermen 
had  come  in  before  us  and  the  most  exuberant  and 
breezy  of  the  lot  was  a  Mr.  Lawrence  of  the  Grand 
Pacific  hotel,  Chicago,  who  visited  Mann's  lodge 
every  spring  during  fishing  season.  He  seemed 
more  interested  in  the  catches  of  the  others  than  he 
did  in  his  own  success,  and  he  was  generally  the 
first  man  on  the  beach  to  meet  an  incoming  party 
and  ascertain  its  catch. 

Mr.  Turner  knew  something  of  the  possibilities  of 
the  lakes  of  the  region  around  us,  and  after  consult- 
ing Mr.  Mann  and  John  Catfish  we  decided  on  an 
early  start  next  morning  for  Sand  lake,  six  miles 
north. 

At  daylight  we  loaded  our  camp  outfits  into  two 
bark  canoes,  (Mr.  Turner  with  a  big,  strong  Cana- 
dian woodsman  for  his  boatman  and  I  with  the  In- 
dian, John  Catfish.  From  the  landing  at  the  head 
of  the  lake  there  was  a  portage  of  three  miles  to 
Sand  lake  through  the  timber.    Mr.  Catfish's  atten- 


Lakes  and  Woods  of  Wisconsin  127 

tion  seemed  to  be  drawn  to  a  distant  cloud  of  smoke 
in  the  south,  evidently  from  a  forest  fire,  and  we 
asked  him  if  it  were  possible  that  the  fire  could  cross 
our  trail  before  we  returned  to  the  lodge.  "Maybe 
so;  wind  change,  come  sure  in  two  days;  no  wind 
no  change,  fire  no  come  dis  way,"  replied  the  Indian. 
After  a  light  lunch  the  boatmen  lashed  their  paddles 
to  the  canoes,  then,  with  blankets  and  provisions  for 
the  whole  party  lashed  to  their  backs,  they  turned 
the  canoes  bottom  side  up,  walked  to  their  center, 
balanced  them  on  their  shoulders,  and  started  off 
on  the  trail.  Mr.  Turner  and  myself,  carrying  only 
our  rods,  found  it  difficult  to  keep  up  with  their  fast 
gait,  although  each  boatman  carried  about  one  hun- 
dred and  twenty-five  pounds.  Only  three  times 
the  boatmen  stopped  to  rest  one  end  of  the  canoe  on 
a  leaning  tree  or  backed  up  against  a  fallen  log  for 
six  minutes,  and  then  they  were  oflf  again.  When- 
ever we  passed  through  the  open  timber  Catfish  kept 
his  eye  out  for  the  cloud  of  smoke  in  the  south, — to 
me  it  seemed  at  least  ten  miles  away. 

We  passed  through  a  clearing  where  underbrush 
grew.  The  wintergreen  berries  were  red,  the  blue- 
l)erries  were  just  coming  out  in  blossom,  and  that 
princely  and  sweetest  scented  of  all  wild  flowers  of 
the  woods,  the  trailing  arbutus,  peeped  out  from  the 
edge  of  snow  banks  left  from  the  winter — not  yet 
quite  gone. 

It  was  afternoon  when  we  reached  the  lake,  and, 
after  unloading  their  packs,  the  guides  cut  jack 
pine  trees  and  made  a  slanting  shelter,  gathered  pine 
boughs  to  lay  under  our  blankets,  built  a  fire  and 


128  Lakes  and  Woods  of  Wisconsin 

cooked  a  lunch  of  coffee,  bacon  and  potatoes,  and 
we  were  ready  for  the  lake. 

''Collins,  you  and  Catfish  go  over  to  the  north, 
and  we  will  go  the  other  way.  I  think  the  channel's 
good  for  muskallonge  over  there,"  said  Mr.  Turner, 
and  he  pushed  off  from  the  shore.  He  had  not  been 
gone  ten  minutes  before  he  hooked  a  muskallonge 
and  our  canoe  was  beating  back  and  across  the 
inlet.  A  dash  was  made  at  my  big  skinner  spoon 
and  the  water  swirled  as  if  a  big  boulder  had  been 
dropped  near  the  boat.  "Big  Muskie,"  said  Catfish, 
"we  go  back,  he  come  again."  Putting  the  canoe 
about,  the  Indian  paddled  back  over  our  track  and 
near  the  spot  another  dash  was  made  at  my  bait, 
and  this  time  with  the  hook  set  well  in  its  mouth 
the  fish  jumped  its  full  length  out  of  the  lake,  then 
made  a  dash  for  deep  water. 

"Hold  tight  line;  I  take  you  place  not  so  deep," 
said  my  boatman.  I  followed  his  suggestion  all 
right,  but  when  the  canoe  was  turned  towards  the 
shore  the  fish  made  a  straight  dash  for  it,  making 
another  leap  clear  out  of  the  water  and  it  was  pretty 
lively  work  to  take  in  the  slack  of  the  line  hand  over 
hand  to  keep  up  with  its  pace  as  it  came  right  at  us. 
Ninety  feet  of  line  were  out  when  it  ran  under  the 
boat.    In  this  rush  the  reel  was  too  slow. 

Catfish  was  a  star  hand  with  the  paddle.  The 
skillful  manner  in  which  he  handled  the  canoe,  al- 
ways giving  me  its  broadside  toward  the  fish^ 
showed  that  he  was  an  expert  boatman.  The  fish 
again  started  toward  the  boat  and  again  I  pulled 
in  the  slack,  hand  over  hand.  As  it  came  within  six 
feet  of  the  boat  Catfish  reached  for  it  with  the  gaif 


Lakes  and  Woods  of  Wisconsin  129 

hook,  but  missed.  Then  it  turned  its  head  on  one 
side  and  scudded  away  Hke  a  driving  horse  pulling 
on  one  line.  The  Indian  actually  had  it  towing  the 
canoe.  "Forty-pound  muskie,"  said  Catfish.  But  I 
was  too  busy  to  make  an  estimate  of  its  length  or 
weight,  for  it  was  gradually  getting  up  greater 
speed,  and  following  it  closely,  I  took  in  the  line, 
and  when  we  drew  alongside,  the  guide  sank  the 
gaff  hook  into  its  side  and  lifted  the  fish  into  the 
canoe  where  its  floundering  nearly  upset  the  frail 
craft.  Catfish  put  his  moccasined  foot  on  the  handle 
of  the  gaff  hook  and  held  the  fish  down,  then,  with 
two  or  three  hard  raps  over  the  head  with  a  club,  it 
trembled  a  moment  and  then  lay  still,  dead. 

Meanwhile,  Mr.  Turner  had  seen  us  cavorting 
about  and  came  over  to  watch  our  fun.  He  had 
caught  three  or  four  muskallonge  weighing  eight, 
nine  and  sixteen  pounds,  but  I  had  the  prize  fish. 

We  all  went  ashore,  gathered  some  moss  from 
the  north  side  of  the  trees  in  a  tamarack  swamp,  and 
laid  our  fish  on  some  ice  we  found  under  the  moss, 
which  can  often  be  found  that  early  in  the  spring 
at  the  foot  of  trees. 

The  big  *'muskie"  weighed  twenty-six  pounds  and 
measured  forty-four  inches  long.  After  lunch  we 
started  out  again,  catching  as  many  fish  as  we  could 
possibly  eat  and  carry  back  over  the  portage  to  the 
lodge,  returning  early  to  camp  and  at  dusk  turned 
in  on  our  beds  of  pine  boughs. 

Next  morning  the  guides  were  up  at  daylight  pre- 
paring breakfast.  After  watching  the  smoke  from 
the  fire  in  the  woods,  Catfish  returned  to  camp  and 


130  Lakes  and  Woods  of  Wisconsin 

said:  "No  fishing  more;  wind  change  and  fire  will 
cross  our  trail ;  must  go  quick." 

The  camp  was  gotten  together  quickly,  and,  with 
the  fish  divided  into  two  packs,  and  the  canoes,  with 
all  our  camp  outfit,  on  the  shoulders  of  the  boatmen, 
we  started  over  the  back  trail.  Before  we  reached 
the  clearing  the  fire  had  crept  along  the  tamarack 
swamp  on  our  left,  and  the  wind  had  drifted  the 
smoke  across  our  trail  and  the  brush  was  already 
burning  within  one  hundred  yards  of  us.  The  south 
wind  blew  it  directly  across  our  trail  and  the  opening 
was  not  a  quarter  of  a  mile  across.  The  smoke  was 
so  dense  that  we  were  obliged  to  get  down  on  our 
hands  and  knees  and  crawl  through  it.  We  suc- 
ceeded in  reaching  the  landing  safely,  not  knowing, 
however,  what  had  become  of  our  guides  with  their 
heavy  loads.  But  they  came  in  a  few  minutes  be- 
hind us. 

We  ate  a  lunch  at  the  landing  on  Trout  lake,  load- 
ed our  packs  into  the  boats  and  started  for  the  lodge. 
All  the  load  was  put  in  Catfish's  canoe,  and  Mr. 
Turner,  myself  and  the  other  boatman  got  into  the 
other  boat.  The  wind  blew  a  stiff  gale  from  the 
south.  Catfish  started  for  the  other  shore  to  get 
into  still  water.  Our  boat  was  going  through  white- 
capped  waves,  and  as  we  rounded  a  point  and  looked 
back  we  saw  Catfish  quietly  paddling  along  in  still 
water,  smoking  his  pipe,  a  mile  behind  us. 

It  was  toward  evening  when  we  reached  the  lodge. 
The  fishermen  had  all  come  in  and  stood  upon  the 
shore  watching  our  arrival.  Mr.  Lawrence  had 
caught  forty  odd  muskallonge  from  the  Manitowisb 
river,  weighing  from  two  to  eight  pounds  each.    One 


Lakes  and  Woods  of  Wisconsin  131 

of  the  party  had  hooked  near  the  boat  landing  a 
sixteen-pound  trout.  The  others  had  fair  catches  of 
bass  and  other  fish.  But  our  big  "muskie"  tipped 
the  beam  at  more  pounds  than  any  three  taken 
by  the  other  fishermen,  and  was  in  reality  the  largest 
caught  that  whole  season. 

After  another  day  on  the  lakes  with  fair  success 
we  packed  our  traps  and  drove  to  the  railroad  sta- 
tion. When  we  reached  the  place  of  our  wild  ride 
through  the  burning  timber,  the  fire  had  crossed  the 
track  and  had  drifted  away  to  the  north. 

Upon  our  arrival  at  Omaha,  the  big  muskallonge 
was  sent  to  the  Omaha  club  and  served  for  a  full 
dinner  to  all  the  club  members. 

The  spring  following  we  went  to  Gordon,  Wis- 
consin, southwest  of  Duluth,  Minnesota.  Here  we 
met  the  somewhat  famous  "Steve"  Gheen.  He  had 
the  reputation  of  being  the  best  lumber  camp  fore- 
man, and  the  best  man  in  a  log  jam,  and  was  an  all 
around  woodsman,  earning  $5.00  a  day,  while  the 
ordinary  wages  were  from  $2.00  to  $3.00  per  day. 
He  was  a  quarter-blood  Chippewa  Indian,  a  clean- 
cut,  dandy  sort  of  a  fellow,  always  gentlemanly,  and 
there  was  not  his  match  in  handling  a  canoe  or  bir- 
ling  a  log  in  that  vicinity.  We  employed  him  as  our 
boatman.  The  first  day  he  carried  a  canoe  to  White 
Fish  and  other  lakes,  among  them  being  Red  lake, 
where,  in  one  day,  Mr.  Turner  and  I  caught  ninety- 
four  big-mouth  bass,  besides  a  lot  of  catfish  and 
pickerel.  The  bass  weighed  from  two  to  four 
pounds  each. 

We  had  made  a  short  portage  to  a  camp  and  when 
we  counted  our  fish  we  found  we  had  ninety-four, 


132  Lakes  and  Woods  of  Wisconsin 

it  was  suggested  that  we  make  another  trip  across 
the  lake  and  make  the  amount  a  full  hundred.  In 
half  an  hour  we  were  back  to  camp  with  sixteen 
more  bass,  making  one  hundred  and  ten  bass  in  the 
day. 

Out  on  a  long  point  we  found  a  loon's  nest,  half 
floating  in  the  water.  It  was  built  of  rushes  and 
contained  three  eggs.  I  carried  one  of  them  to  camp. 
The  hen  bird  had  watched  me  robbing  its  nest  and 
kept  up  its  wild  call.  It  would  visit  its  nest,  then 
sail  away  over  our  camp.  It  kept  up  its  mournful 
cry  all  night  long  as  it  hovered  over  the  camp. 


SAN  FRANCISCO  EARTHQUAKE 
AND  FIRE 

All  the  public  clocks  in  the  city  of  San  Francisco 
were  stopped  at  5:15  a.  m.  April  18,  1906,  by  the 
earthquake. 

I  was  asleep  on  the  ninth  floor  of  the  steel  and 
stone  apartment  house,  The  Alexander,  on  Geary 
street,  half  a  block  from  the  St.  Francis  hotel.  My 
first  impression  upon  awakening  was  that  I  was  in 
a  railroad  wreck.  I  had  been  thrown  almost  out  of 
bed  by  the  first  shock  and  the  second  threw  me  back 
again.  I  sat  up,  but  was  again  thrown  back  into  the 
bed.  Then  I  put  my  feet  out  and  stood  upon  the 
floor  and  realize4  that  I  was  in  San  Francisco  and  in 
an  earthquake. 

The  building  shook  and  trembled  like  a  tree  in  a 
tornado  while  I  staggered  to  a  window  where  my 
clothes  lay  upon  a  chair.  Two  more  shocks  fol- 
lowed, not  so  violent  as  the  others,  and,  as  I  looked 
from  the  window,  I  saw  the  building  adjoining  crash 
down.  I  learned  afterward  that  twelve  people  had 
been  buried  beneath  its  walls.  I  saw  puflfs  of  smoke 
around  the  horizon  and  realized  that  a  great  con- 
flagration was  imminent.  With  satchel  in  hand  I 
started  down  eight  flights  of  stairs,  not  knowing 
what  obstacle  I  might  meet  to  cut  me  oflf  and  leave 
me  beyond  all  possibility  of  escape.  But  the  only 
impediment  I  encountered  was  falling  plaster,  and 
the  farther  down  I  went  the  more  the  plaster  had 


134  San  Francisco  Earthquake  and  Fire 

fallen.  It  was  my  determination  to  get  out  of  the 
building  if  possible  and  over  onto  Union  square, 
where  the  Dewey  mounment  stood,  where  I  would 
not  be  killed  by  falling  roofs  or  walls.  I  reached 
the  street  and  climbed  over  piles  of  stones  which 
had  fallen  from  the  building  adjoining  and  I  saw 
that  what  had  a  few  moments  before  been  small 
puffs  of  smoke  had  increased  to  great  clouds  and  at 
that  early  hour  it  seemed  to  me  the  city  was  doomed 
to  destruction  by  fire.  Live  wires  were  dancing  about 
and  snapping  like  firecrackers,  but  the  current  of 
electricity  was  soon  shut  off.  Water  pipes  had 
parted  five  miles  out  of  the  city  and  all  power  and 
light  of  every  description  was  out  of  service. 

I  reached  the  park  safely  and  at  once  resolved 
that  no  roof,  unless  it  be  a  canvas  tent,  should  again 
cover  my  head  if  I  could  get  out  of  the  city  and  over 
to  Oakland  across  the  bay.  Scarcely  fifty  people 
had  reached  the  park  when  I  arrived  there.  The 
guests  of  the  St.  Francis  were  pouring  out — men 
and  women  with  a  sheet  or  a  blanket  wrapped  about 
them,  women  with  a  single  gown,  barefooted  and 
with  hair  flying.  I  saw  one  young  woman,  maybe 
a  bride  of  a  few  weeks,  barefooted,  her  hair  flying, 
clothed  in  an  elegant  party  dress,  her  fingers  cov- 
ered with  diamond  rings. 

When  the  men  had  brought  the  women  and  chil- 
dren into  the  park  and  had  gotten  courage  to  go 
back  to  their  rooms  and  get  their  clothing,  there  was 
no  one  left  there  but  the  women  and  a  few  children. 
There  were  no  hysterics,  no  crying  or  moaning 
among  the  women,  only  a  look  of  resignation.  They 
all  seemed  resigned  to  their  fate, — what  happens  us 


San  Francisco  Earthquake  and  Fire  135 

will  happen  them,  what  happens  them  will  happen 
to  us,  and  no  one  can  prevent  it.  It  was  not  long 
until  people  from  the  surrounding  buildings  began 
arriving.  To  get  away  from  the  crowd  I  moved 
over  towards  Post  street,  where  I  could  watch  the 
scene. 

While  I  stood  wondering  how  it  would  be  possi- 
ble for  me  to  get  away  from  all  of  these  scenes  of 
misery  and  horror  and  over  to  Oakland  and  away 
to  the  east,  I  heard  a  voice  saying:  **Mr.  Collins, 
how  would  you  like  to  be  in  Omaha  today?".  The 
speaker  was  Harry  Cartan  of  Omaha. 

The  only  road  to  the  ferry  house  that  I  knew  was 
down  Market  street.  By  this  time  dozens  of  blocks 
of  buildings  were  in  flames,  cutting  off  that  route 
completely  and  Mr.  Cartan's  voice  seemed  to  solve 
the  problem  of  some  other  way  out  of  the  burning 
city.  For  two  hours  we  walked  together  about  the 
streets,  viewing  the  destruction  and  damage  the 
earthquake  had  wrought.  The  sun  in  the  east  be- 
yond the  clouds  of  smoke  and  glare  of  the  fire  looked 
like  a  great  lump  of  red  hot  iron.  The  heat  seemed 
to  have  formed  a  draft  straight  up  into  the  sky,  a 
mile  above.  Sparks  and  cinders  floated  about  in  the 
sky  until  a  current  of  air  would  carry  them  out  over 
the  bay.  No  new  fires  seemed  to  have  been  caused 
from  floating  cinders  or  sparks.  The  sky  was  a 
brilliant  sight  to  behold. 

To  undertake  a  meagre  description  of  all  that  fell 
under  my  eye  would  be  a  great  tax  on  memory,  and 
ability  to  describe  it  quite  beyond  me.  We  walked 
down  to  the  Call  building,  the  Palace  hotel  and  over 
to  the  Chronicle  building  to  the  Postal  Telegraph 


136  San  Francisco  Earthquake  and  Fire 

office,  to  send  telegrams.  The  office  was  jammed 
with  people.  The  clerks  overtaxed  and  so  driven 
with  work  they  had  strength  only  to  hold  out  their 
hands  and  take  messages  and  the  money.  The  ques- 
tion of  their  ever  being  able  to  even  get  the  dis- 
patches started  on  the  wire  was  of  minor  considera- 
tion. From  my  experience  I  know  many  dispatches 
were  sent  by  mail  by  the  company. 

We  walked  over  to  the  banking  district,  where 
every  business  building  v/as  vacated,  doors  closed, 
and  a  watchman  standing  guard  at  the  door.  Piles 
of  stone  and  brick — the  fire  had  not  reached  that 
quarter — that  the  earthquake  had  thrown  to  the 
sidewalk,  blockading  them  completely.  With  tot- 
tering walls  on  all  sides  it  was  only  safe  to  walk 
in  the  middle  of  the  street.  In  places  whole  blocks 
of  buildings  had  sunken  a  foot  or  more  below  the 
street,  paving  and  curbing  were  warped  out  of  shape 
and  left  above  the  street  level.  Cracks  in  the  street 
were  everywhere,  from  the  width  of  your  hand  to 
eighteen  inches  and  more.  A  grotesque  sight  were 
the  show  windows  of  the  great  dry  goods  houses, 
where  cloaks,  handsome  dresses  and  elegant  bonnets 
were  displayed  on  figures.  These  figures  were  tum- 
bled about  in  all  shapes,  some  standing  on  their 
heads,  others  fallen  in  heaps,  bonnets,  opera  coats, 
lace  dresses,  alt  in  confusion.  We  continued  our 
walk  to  keep  watch  of  the  progress  of  the  fire  and 
every  inch  of  the  way  the  earthquake  had  left  its 
destructive  path.  On  all  sides  where  standing  walls 
were  shaken  and  the  sidewalks  obstructed,  the  space 
was  roped  oflf  to  keep  travel  in  the  middle  of  the 
street  and  at  times  it  was  necessary  to  go  entirely 


San  Francisco  Earthquake  and  Fire  137 

around  a  block.  We  spent  three  hours  in  walking 
about  the  city,  before  the  fire  had  reached  as  far  as 
Third  and  Market  streets,  but  at  the  right  and  the 
left  of  it  it  seemed  like  an  unbroken  blaze  away  to 
the  bay. 

All  kinds  of  rumors  were  afloat:  "The  ferry 
building  had  gone  down  and  boats  could  not  land." 
"Chicago  stood  in  nine  feet  of  water."  "New  York 
had  had  a  tidal  wave,"  etc.  These  attracted  little  at- 
tention because  of  our  own  surroundings.  We 
walked  back  to  the  St.  Francis  hotel  and  in  the  grill 
room  got  a  cup  of  coflfee  and  rolls  and  again  went 
out  on  the  street. 

By  this  time  the  terror-stricken  people  filled  every 
inch  of  space  in  the  park.  Geary,  Powell  and  Post 
streets  were  thronged. 

Now  the  military  had  arrived  from  the  Presidio 
and  the  city  was  placed  under  martial  law.  Sol- 
diers and  policemen  were  stationed  everywhere  to 
protect  private  property  and  to  guard  the  people 
against  travel  in  dangerous  places.  Before  9  a.  m. 
this  famous  proclamation  of  the  mayor  was  issued: 

PROCLAMATION  BY  THE  MAYOR. 

The  Federal  troops,  the  members  of  the  reg- 
ular police  force  and  all  special  police  officers 
have  been  authorized  to  kill  any  and  all  per- 
sons found  engaged  in  looting  or  in  the  com- 
mission of  any  other  crime. 

I  have  directed  all  the  Gas  and  Electric  Light- 
ing companies  not  to  turn  on  gas  or  electricity 
until  I  order  them  to  do  so,  you  may  therefore 


138  San  Francisco  Earthquake  and  Fire 

expect  the  city  to  remain  in  darkness  for  an  in- 
definite time. 

I  request  all  citizens  to  remain  at  home  from 
darkness  until  daylight  of  every  night  until 
order  is  restored. 

I  warn  all  citizens  of  the  danger  of  fire  from 
damaged  or  destroyed  chimneys,  broken  or  leak- 
ing gas  pipes  or  fixtures,  or  any  like  cause. 

E.  E.  SCHMITZ,  Mayor.. 
Altaver  Print.        Mission  and  22nd  Streets. 

The  city  water  wagons  began  hauling  water  into- 
Dewey  park  for  drinking  purposes.  Loaves  of  bread 
and  crackers  were  brought  and  given  to  all  who 
asked  for  them.  Dairy  wagons  loaded  with  milk 
cans  arrived  on  Geary  street  and  milk  was  given  out 
freely.  Down  among  the  small  saloons,  liquor  was 
sold  so  lavishly  and  drunkenness  became  so  general 
that  the  saloons  were  ordered  gutted  and  the  liquors 
poured  out  on  the  streets.  It  was  not  an  infrequent 
sound  to  hear  the  crack  of  a  soldier's  or  policeman's 
rifle  or  pistol  ending  somebody's  career  at  an  at- 
tempt at  some  crime.  In  the  great  crowd  Mr.  Car- 
tan  and  I  became  separated — an  unfortunate  circum- 
stance for  me,  because  I  knew  no  easy  way  I  could 
get  out  of  the  city  on  account  of  being  a  stranger, 
and  among  all  the  thousands  of  people  I  did  not 
know  where  to  look  for  an  acquaintance  whom  I 
could  reach.  So  I  stood  in  places  where  I  could  see 
the  fire  blazing  its  way  up  Market  street.  From 
near  Union  square  I  watched  the  smoke  pour  out  of 
the  upper  tier  of  windows  of  the  Call  building;  then 
the  next,  the    Palace   hotel,    and   on    down   to   the 


The  author's  keys,  which  went  through  the  San 
Francisco  fire.  (The  keys  were  found  by  workmen  in 
the  debris  of  the  hotel  and  returned  to  Mr.  Collins 
several   months   after  his  arrival    home.) 


San  Francisco  Earthquake  and  Fire  139 

ground  floor.  By  the  time  the  smoke  had  reached 
the  ground  floor,  the  flames  were  coming  out  of  these 
buildings.  I  watched  them  until  the  blaze  came  out 
of  every  window  and  opening  in  the  buildings — a 
grand  and  awful  sight.  I  saw  the  glare  of  light 
through  the  yet  unbroken  glass,  fronting  on  Market 
street,  of  the  Palace  hotel.  This  was  also  a  beautiful 
sight,  soon  followed  by  smoke  and  flames. 

In  all  parts  of  the  city  automobiles  were  hurrying 
about,  containing  the  governor,  the  mayor  of  the 
city,  the  commanding  general  and  army  and  munic- 
ipal officers.  To  check  the  flames  dynamite  was 
brought  from  the  garrison.  As  each  block  of  build- 
ings caught  fire  on  the  corner  a  few  stores  away,  a 
hundred  or  two  pounds  of  dynamite  were  used  to 
check  the  flames.  Still  the  fire  raged  and  two  blocks 
away  they  would  fire  dynamite  until  finally  build- 
ings were  blown  up  three  blocks  ahead  of  the  flames 
to  check  the  fire.  All  the  streets  were  thronged  with 
people.  A  fair  example  of  what  was  transpiring  all 
over  the  city  could  be  seen  in  Union  square  where 
the  Dewey  monument  stood.  Men,  women  and  chil- 
dren carrying  baskets,  bundles  of  clothing,  satchels, 
blankets,  children  with  bird  cages  in  one  hand  car- 
rying their  dolls  by  the  leg  or  arm  and  to  these  little 
tots  it  all  seemed  great  fun.  Parrots  were  perched 
on  the  shoulders  of  men,  pet  dogs  carried  by  women, 
trunks  of  clothing  with  a  rope  at  one  end,  scraping 
and  rasping  over  the  asphalt  pavement.  Young 
women  carrying  typewriters,  young  men  carrying 
books  and  stationery  and  every  conceivable  thing 
was  lugged  along  to  a  resting  place  until  they  could 
go  no  further.    As  the  fire  progressed  great  crowds 


140  San  Francisco  Earthquake  and  Fire 

of  people  nearly  wore  their  lives  out  carrying  and 
dragging  after  them  the  only  articles  they  could  save 
from  their  homes,  stores  and  offices,  and  hundreds 
would  fall  on  the  street  through  sheer  exhaustion 
and  in  the  end  abandon  their  loads  and  go  on.  i 
saw  one  couple,  at  least  seventy  years  of  age, 
with  a  rope  around  a  piano,  the  man  pulling  and  the 
woman  pushing  and  to  steady  it  from  toppling  over 
the  woman  would  hold  back  about  as  much  as  the 
man  would  pull. 

All  over  the  city  the  booming  of  dynamite  could 
be  heard  every  few  minutes,  exploded  ahead  of  the 
fire  line.  I  walked  over  to  the  Union  League  club. 
They  were  taking  down  their  oil  paintings  and  cart- 
ing them  away  to  a  place  of  safety.  There  were  also 
heavy  express  wagons  loaded  with  treasure  from 
the  banks,  each  guarded  by  a  dozen  armed  men, 
going  to  safety  deposit  vaults.  To  give  an  idea  of 
the  value  the  use  of  any  kind  of  wagon  or  transpor- 
tation, one  incident  is  mentioned:  An  officer  of  one 
of  the  banks  stood  on  a  corner  stopping  an  express 
wagon  to  engage  it  to  take  his  bank's  specie  away. 
"I  am  engaged  and  I  can't  do  it,"  answered  the  cart 
man.  *T'll  pay  you  any  price,"  said  the  banker,  "or 
I'll  buy  your  team.  How  much  for  it?"  "I'll  give 
it  to  you  for  $500.00."  "Come  in  and  get  your 
money."  The  banker  paid  $500.00  in  gold  for  the 
outfit  and  the  clerks  began  carrying  the  money  out 
to  load  in  the  wagon.  The  fire  was  approaching 
upon  that  block  and  they  did  not  wait  to  gather  up 
a  thousand  dollars  of  loose  silver  change  left  scat- 
tered about  the  drawers  and  on  the  counters.  Auto- 
mobiles were  whirling  about  the  city  in  every  direc- 


San  Francisco  Earthquake  and  Fire  141 

tion.  Occasionally  a  soldier  with  a  musket  would 
stop  the  auto,  the  driver  and  occupants  would  be  or- 
dered out,  the  name  of  the  owner  of  the  machine 
taken,  its  number,  the  owner's  address,  and  the  offi- 
cers needing  it  in  the  emergency  would  press  it  into 
service. 

It  requires  a  more  vivid  pen  than  mine  to  describe 
the  incidents  around  me  and  the  horrors  cover- 
ing every  portion  of  the  city.  I  watched  them 
all  day.  At  9  o'clock  at  night  I  stood  in  front 
of  the  Alexander  hotel  where  my  trunk  had  been 
left  the  night  before  on  the  ninth  floor.  It  had  been 
useless  to  attempt  getting  it  down.  Twenty-five  to 
$50.00  for  each  floor  was  time  and  again  refused  by 
porters.  The  only  vehicle  drivers  on  the  street 
charged  $25.00  to  $100.00  for  taking  a  family  to  the 
ferry  landing.  Automobiles  for  hire  cleared  from 
$100.00  to  $200.00  for  the  same  service.  At  nine 
o'clock  at  night  all  the  people  in  Union  square  were 
ordered  to  move  away,  as  the  fire  would  be  on  them 
in  half  an  hour.  So  loath  were  they  to  leave,  it  re- 
quired soldiers  with  fixed  bayonets  to  move  them. 

The  St.  Francis  hotel  and  the  Alexander  were  or- 
dered vacated  at  9:30  o'clock  at  night.  When  this 
order  came  in  company  with  three  others  I  started 
for  the  Presidio,  nine  miles  away,  thinking  we  might 
find  shelter  in  the  military  post.  All  day  long  the 
great  crowds  had  been  drifting  into  Golden  Gate 
park  and  it  was  now  estimated  that  a  hundred  thou- 
sand people  were  there.  Almost  a  panic  was  cre- 
ated by  the  rumor  that  a  tidal  wave  from  the  ocean 
would  flood  the  park.    This,  of  course,  was  without 


142  San  Francisco  Earthquake  and  Fire 

foundation,  but  it  served  the  purpose  of  prolonging 
the  exciting  misery. 

Our  route  was  up  Geary  in  the  middle  of  the 
street.  After  walking  an  hour  we  were  halted  by 
soldiers  and  turned  off  of  Geary  street  two  or  three 
blocks  west,  continuing  on  towards  Van  Ness  street, 
which  we  reached  just  at  midnight  and  on  a  piece  of 
vacant  ground  adjoining  the  street,  ten  or  fifteen 
thousand  people  were  crowded. 

In  our  travels  we  had  heard  that  a  final  attempt 
would  be  made  to  stop  the  fire  over  at  the  east  end 
of  Van  Ness  street  and  we  concluded  to  rest  where 
we  were  until  morning.  Almost  every  inch  of  space 
was  occupied.  There  was  no  drinking  water. 
Women  and  children  were  famishing  from  thirst. 
It  was  rumored  someone  was  selling  water  and  that 
they  had  been  shot  down  immediately.  Along  this 
route  we  saw  great  fissures  in  the  street.  I  lay  on  a 
carpenter's  bench  with  my  satchel  under  my  head, 
all  that  I  had  saved  of  my  baggage.  In  half  an  hour 
I  had  quite  enough  of  that  kind  of  rest,  and  waking 
up  my  companions  we  again  started  for  the  Presidio, 
still  three  miles  away.  There  came  along  two  or 
three  persons  who  greeted  my  companions.  They 
said  the  ferry  was  running  and  they  were  going  to 
Oakland.  That  being  my  direction,  I  immediately 
joined  them  and  went  down  Van  Ness  street  west 
to  the  ocean  shore. 

The  condition  of  the  people  and  the  sights  and 
scenes  along  the  route  up  the  ocean  and  bay  shore 
were  like  those  we  had  passed.  A  one-horse  express 
wagon  was  hailed  by  a  woman  who  asked  the  driver 
his  price  for  carrying  her  to  the  ferry.    Turning  to 


San  Francisco  Earthquake  and  Fire  143 

one  or  two  acquaintances  she  gave  out  that  she  car- 
ried $105.00  and  turning  to  the  expressman  for  his 
answer  he  said :  'I'll  carry  you  for  $100.00."  Four 
soldiers  with  muskets,  just  off  of  duty,  were  passing 
and  hearing  the  argument  they  ordered  the  express- 
man to  put  the  woman's  bundles  in  his  wagon  and 
carry  them  to  the  ferry  without  delay.  Two  soldiers 
accompanied  them.  When  at  the  ferry  house  the 
driver  was  ordered  to  carry  the  bundles  into  the 
waiting  room  and  he  was  told,  "Now  you  can  go." 
*'But  who  pays  me?"  asked  the  driver.  "You  get 
nothing,"  said  one  of  the  soldiers,  "Go !" 

We  had  followed  along  the  shore  the  long  tedious 
miles  to  the  ferry.  On  all  sides  there  were  men, 
women  and  children,  Chinamen, — in  fact  people  of 
all  nationalities  and  in  every  condition  of  life,  many 
had  lugged  along  their  loads  until  they  could  go  no 
further.  We  carried  our  satchels,  which  by  this 
time  began  to  get  very  heavy,  making  it  necessary 
to  put  them  down  every  two  hundred  yards  or  so  and 
rest  and  I  may  add  that  many  was  the  time  I  would 
look  at  my  satchel  on  the  ground  and  wonder  if  I 
had  not  carried  it  long  enough.  Then  the  thought 
would  come  to  me,  "It  may  be  weeks  and  perhaps  I 
may  be  in  the  bread  line  before  I  can  get  any  more 
clothing,"  so  I  clung  to  the  satchel.  Many  men, 
women  and  children,  some  of  them  bare-footed,  car- 
ried no  bundles,  all  their  worldly  possessions  con- 
sisting of  what  they  wore.  It  is  difficult  to  tell 
whether  their  condition  was  as  deplorable  as  the 
many  who  had  attempted  to  carry  away  what  they 
had  saved. 


144  San  Francisco  Earthquake  and  Fire 

We  began  our  walk  the  second  time  for  the  i^rvy 
half  an  hour  after  midnight  and  reached  the  ferry 
house  at  8 :30  a.  m.,  after  almost  twelve  hours  steady 
walking.  The  glare  of  the  fire  lighted  up  the  streets 
so  that  it  was  by  no  means  dark.  It  was  pitiful  to 
pass  the  droves  of  Chinamen,  women  and  children,. 
Japanese  and  all  manner  of  yellow-skinned  people. 
The  Chinese  way  of  carrying  their  loads  was  with  a, 
pole  resting  on  their  shoulder  between  two  men,  the 
load  often  weighing  two  hundred  and  fifty  pounds. 
The  Chinese  have  always  been  much  dishked  in  San 
Francisco.  This  made  no  difference.  When  it  came 
to  the  bread  line  no  favor  was  shown  that  the  Chi- 
nese did  not  share,  but  in  all  cases  each  man  and 
woman  took  care  of  his  and  her  belongings. 

A  mother  lying  on  a  bundle  not  twenty  feet  away 
got  up  every  few  minutes  and  raised  a  lace  curtain 
that  had  been  thrown  over  a  baby  carriage  in  which 
a  child  was  sleeping.  She  did  not  disturb  it  and  lay 
down  again  on  her  bundle.  She  and  the  baby  had 
been  separated  from  the  husband  and  father. 

When  we  started  again  at  one  o'clock  I  realized 
what  the  thirty  hours  had  carried  me  through.  Had 
I  known  the  sights  and  scenes  of  misery  I  would  en- 
counter in  reaching  a  place  of  safety  and  rest  I  might 
have  hesitated  and  said  :  "Not  another  block."  With 
still  ten  or  fifteen  miles  ahead  of  us,  we  walked  on 
and  came  in  sight  of  the  towers  of  the  ferry  house. 
It  seemed  we  could  never  reach  it  through  the 
throngs  of  people  of  all  ages,  sexes,  colors  and  con- 
ditions of  life. 

Many  were  lying  flat  on  their  backs  in  the  dirt 
with  a  wrap  thrown  over  their  faces,  whether  dead 


The  Marine's  Story  145 

or  alive  we  could  not  tell.  As  we  neared  the  ferry 
house  these  scenes  increased.  People  were  tugging 
at  fallen  and  burned  buildings  along  the  way  to  res- 
cue the  dead  or  injured.  There  was  no  noise.  Every 
soul  depended  upon  himself  and  every  one  had  a 
serious  task  to  take  care  of  himself  or  herself  and 
their  children. 

Down  towards  the  Golden  Gate  there  were  many 
government  tugs,  launches  and  private  boats.  These 
were  seized  upon  early  in  the  day.  Like  many  an- 
other not  acquainted  with  the  city  and  its  outlets  I 
had  no  such  easy  way  of  reaching  Oakland  across 
the  bay  or  the  islands.  I  had  lost  Mr.  Cartan  and 
all  the  acquaintances  I  had  in  the  great  crowd.  Busi- 
ness of  all  kinds  was  suspended  by  nine  a.  m.  Peo- 
ple generally  felt  that  the  city  was  doomed  and  all 
that  could  be  saved  must  be  carried  on  their  backs. 


THE  MARINE'S  STORY. 

One  arm  was  buttoned  under  his  overcoat.  A 
handsome,  intelligent  looking  chap,  came  over  to 
me  at  the  station  in  Oakland,  where  I  was  waiting 
to  take  the  train  for  the  east,  and  said:  "Ain't  we 
in  luck  to  have  plenty  of  good  grub  before  us?" 

"Tell  me,  what  accident  befell  you?"  I  asked. 

"I  was  on  duty,"  said  the  marine,  "between  the 
Grand  and  Palace  hotels.  A  squad  of  marines  just 
arrived  and  I  was  to  be  relieved  when  somebody 
said :  'Look  at  the  Httle  girl  up  in  the  window.'  Three 
stories  above  in  the  Palace  hotel,  the  glare  of  fire 
had  already  begun  to  show  through  the  glass  of 


146  The  Marine's  Story 

every  window.  The  boys  bunched  up  and  made  a 
ladder  and  put  me  on  top,  because  I  was  going  off 
duty.  I  kicked  the  window  glass  in,  gathered  all  the 
bed  clothing  I  could,  wrapped  it  about  the  young 
girl  and  started  back.  Just  then  300  pounds  of  dyna- 
mite was  exploded  a  block  east  and  we  were  blown 
out  of  the  window  and  fell  on  the  tangled  telephone 
and  telegraph  wires.  Someone  carried  the  girl  away, 
uninjured.  In  the  fall,  my  shoulder  blade  was  broken 
and  this  arm  broken  twice.  I  just  now  came  from 
the  hospital  and  have  thirty  days  off  and  came  to 
see  a  chum  going  east." 

The  entire  depot  was  in  possession  of  the  Relief 
committee.  Girls,  young  and  old,  mothers  and  the 
best  of  humanity  were  there  to  offer  every  living 
human  being,  who  would  ask  for  it,  coffee  and  sand- 
wiches. They  were  offered  to  me  a  dozen  times,  but 
notwithstanding  my  being  short  of  money  I  was  not 
penniless,  and  not  likely  to  get  into  the  "bread  line." 

In  Oakland,  money  was  money.  A  letter  of  credit, 
drafts  on  banks  or  anything  usually  recognized  as 
money  would  not  get  you  one  penny,  or  buy  a  meal. 
I  had  agreed  to  pay  the  fare  of  a  young  man  who 
had  helped  to  "pull  me  through"  the  long  night's 
walk  to  Oakland,  as  far  as  Omaha. 

"If  I  could  get  New  York  drafts  cashed,  at  the 
ticket  office,"  I  said  to  the  agent,  "I  have  a  New 
York  draft  for  $100.00.  Give  me  a  ticket  to  Omaha 
(the  price  of  which  was  about  $80.00),  and  the  bal- 
ance in  currency." 

"Nothing  but  cash  will  buy  a  ticket  of  any  kind 
for  any  distance.    This  is  our  order,"  said  the  agent. 


The  Marine's  Story  147 

As  I  turned  away  a  gentleman  tapped  me  on  the 
arm  and  said : 

''My  friend,  I  heard  all  of  the  common  sense  you 
told  that  agent,  I'll  cash  your  draft." 

"Then  come  up  town  with  me  and  let  me  convince 
you  that  you  are  taking  no  risk,  and  I  will  be  glad 
to  accept  the  kindness,"  I  replied. 

John  T.  Bell,  who  recently  published  The  Omaha 
Mercury,  was  the  only  man  I  knew  in  Oakland  and 
to  him  and  to  his  most  estimable  wife,  who  was  a 
Miss  McClandish,  brought  up  in  Omaha,  I  am  ever- 
lastingly grateful,  for  their  kind  hospitality  and  the 
efforts  of  Mr.  Bell  to  help  me  "pull  through."  Mr, 
Bell  was  in  his  real  estate  office  and  to  the  stranger 
accompanying  me  said  all  the  things  necessary  to 
convince  anyone  of  the  truth  of  my  "tale  of  woe." 
Meanwhile  the  stranger  counted  out  five  twenty- 
dollar  gold  pieces  and  asked  me  to  endorse  the  draft. 
"I  am  satisfied,"  he  said. 

This  gentleman  positively  refused  to  accept  one 
cent  for  exchange  or  any  pay  whatever  for. his  kind- 
ness in  helping  me  out  of  a  serious  dilemma.    His 

name  and  address  is 

and  if  he  ever  travels  my  way  I 

will  try  and  convince  him  that  his  great  kindness 
to  me,  under  circumstances  that  seldom  befall  a  man 
in  a  lifetime,  is  not  forgotten. 


THE  BATTLE  OF  SUMMIT  SPRINGS. 
NEBRASKA.  JULY.  IS69 

After  the  battle  of  Beaver  creek,  the  command 
was  marched  to  Fort  Wallace,  Kansas,  where  it  re- 
mained for  several  days  refitting  and  organizing 
pack  trains  preparatory  to  operations  during  the 
coming  winter  in  accordance  with  orders  from  Ma- 
jor General  P.  H.  Sheridan,  commanding  the  de- 
partment of  the  Missouri,  who  planned  this  cam- 
paign, which  was  carried  out  under  his  personal  di- 
rection. It  included  columns  from  three  different 
points,  the  Seventh  cavalry  commanded  by  Brevet 
Major  General  George  A.  Custer  to  operate  from 
Camp  Supply,  Indian  Territory;  the  Third  cavalry 
under  Major  Evans  to  operate  from  Fort  Bascom, 
New  Mexico;  the  Fifth  cavalry  under  Brevet  Major 
General  E.  A.  Carr  from  Fort  Lyon,  Colorado,  and 
a  flying  column  under  Brevet  Brigadier  General 
Penrose,  Captain  Third  infantry,  also  from  Fort 
Lyon.  These  columns  were  expected  to  converge 
toward  a  point  known  as  "the  Antelope  hills"  near 
the  Washita  river,  the  object  being  to  close  in  on  the 
hostile  Commanches,  Kiowas,  Arapahoes  and  Chey- 
ennes  known  to  be  in  fbrce  on  the  Washita  river 
and  its  tributaries  north  of  Texas,  in  vvhat  is  norw 


(Note — The  above  graphic  story  was  written  for  this 
volume  by  Brlgkdler  General  Hayes,  an  old  and  closb  friend 
of  the  ailthor,  at  hid  .earnest  solicitation,  Hayes  county, 
Nebraska;,  'was  nataed  for  General  ("Captain  Jack")  Hayes, 
in  alppr^cikUpn  of,  his  ^erVlfces  in  ,!riddlns  the  We^erti  l^afi^  df 
Kfebi'aW^  frbni  hb'jstlle  Inaiatt^.'— k  r.  6.) 


The  Battle  of  Summit  Springs,  Neb.  149 

known  as  Oklahoma.  General  Carr's  command 
reached  Fort  Lyon  late  in  December,  1868,  and 
after  a  few  days'  rest  there,  followed  on  the  trail  of 
the  flying  column  under  General  Penrose.  This 
column  had  preceded  General  Carr's  command  about 
ten  days  or  two  weeks,  but,  through  the  inexperi- 
ence of  his  scouts  and  trailers,  had  become  lost  and 
failing  to  communicate  with  headquarters  caused 
grave  concern.  The  trail  made  by  General  Penrose 
was  erratic  and  over  exceedingly  rough  country,  al- 
most impassable  for  wagons,  his  supplies  being  car- 
ried on  pack  mules. 

The  weather  was  cold  and  fuel  scarce  on  this 
march  and  much  suffering  was  caused  thereby. 
General  Penrose's  trail  at  times  being  so  indistinct 
that  it  was  hard  to  follow,  but  after  much  difficulty 
his  command  was  overtaken  in  camp  where  it  had 
been  for  several  days  so  broken  down  as  to  be  unfit 
for  service  and  unable  to  move  and  practically  out 
of  rations.  After  furnishing  the  needed  supplies, 
the  combined  command  under  General  Carr  was 
marched  south  to  the  Canadian  river,  which  was 
reached  in  a  heavy  snow  storm  Here  was  dis- 
covered the  trail  of  Major  Evans'  command  follow- 
ing the  river  in  an  easterly  course  in  the  direction 
of  Antelope  hills  where  we  later  learned  he  had 
struck  the  Indians  and  gained  a  brilliant  victory. 
General  Custer  with  his  column  also  struck  the  In- 
dians further  east  and  fought  and  Won  the  historic 
battle  of  the  Wishita.  General  Carres  command, 
hoWeVer,  failed  to  comfe  in  cbnt'att  with  any  Indians 
and  after  Spending  th^  wintW  Scouling  returned  to 
Fdr't  Lydn,  Cbrdralfdi  fe'ariy  in  the  fepring  b\  1869. 


150  The  Battle  of  Summit  Springs,  Neb. 

From  there  I  took  advantage  of  a  leave  of  absence 
to  visit  my  family,  and  rejoined  the  regiment  at 
Fort  McPherson,  Nebraska,  May,  1869.  During  my 
absence,  the  regiment  had  been  transferred  from 
the  department  of  the  Missouri  to  the  Department 
of  the  Platte,  and  en  route  to  join  its  new  station. 
Fort  McPherson,  Nebraska,  had  a  successful  en- 
counter with  a  hostile  band  of  Sioux  Indians  not  far 
from  the  fort. 

Early  in  June,  1869,  the  Republican  river  expedi- 
dition  under  Brevet  Major  General  Carr — of  whicli 
I  was  its  acting  quartermaster  and  commissary — 
consisting  of  seven  troops  of  the  Fifth  cavalry  and 
a  batallion  of  friendly  Pawnee  Indians — the  latter 
under  Major  Frank  North,  an  experienced  Indian 
fighter — left  Fort  McPherson  to  operate  against 
renegade  Sioux,  Cheyenne  and  Arapahoe  Indians, 
known  as  "Dog  Soldiers,"  and  led  by  the  fierce  and 
savage  chief.  Tall  Bull,  who  had  been  creating  terror 
and  dismay  amongst  the  settlers  living  in  the  ex- 
posed counties  of  Kansas,  Nebraska  and  Colorado, 
and  was  the  scourge  of  that  whole  territory,  cap- 
turing and  killing  women  and  children  and  in  many 
instances  torturing  them  in  the  most  fiendish  man- 
ner. General  Carr,  who  was  selected  to  follow  and 
chastise  these  Indians,  was  a  noted  Indian  fighter, 
with  a  thorough  knowledge  of  Indian  character  and 
methods.  He  had  served  against  Indians  for  many 
years  prior  to  and  subsequent  to  the  civil  war.  No 
better  commander  could  have  been  chosen. 

The  trail  of  the  Indians  was  picked  up  in  a  few 
dayfe  .and  Was.  follbVeii.  persistently  and  with  ex* 
cellent  judgBient  liniil  the  Indians'  fears  Were  par- 


The  Battle  of  Summit  Springs,  Neb.  151 

tially  allayed  and  they  became  careless  in  their 
watchfulness.  This  resulted  in  giving  General  Carr 
his  opportunity,  when  cutting  loose  from  his  wagon 
trains,  by  forced  marches  night  and  day,  he  sur- 
prised their  main  camp  at  Summit  Springs,  Ne- 
braska, in  broad  daylight,  July  11,  1869, — something 
almost  unprecedented  in  Indian  warfare,  especially 
on  the  plains.  This  result  was  due  in  a  great 
measure  to  the  daring  and  guidance  of  Colonel  Wil- 
liam F.  Cody— ''Buffalo  Bill"— chief  of  scouts,  who 
discovered  the  village  and  led  the  troops  to  the  po- 
sition they  were  to  occupy  in  the  attack  without  the 
knowledge  of  the  Indians.  This  was  considered  the 
greatest  of  the  many  achievements  of  this  wonderful 
scout.  In  the  unexpected  charge  on  them  which  fol- 
lowed, the  Indians  became  more  or  less  scattered  and 
in  consequence  the  fighting  was  of  the  "hand  to 
hand"  order  and  continued  for  some  time  in  the 
village  and  over  the  prairie,  ending  in  a  complete  vic- 
tory for  the  troops,  the  death  of  Tall  Bull  and  sixty- 
five  or  seventy  of  his  chief  warriors,  the  destruction 
of  the  village  and  capture  of  the  squaws  and  children 
and  hundreds  of  ponies,  etc.,  and  also  the  rescue  of 
two  white  women  captives  who  had  been  toma- 
hawked by  the  squaws.  One  soon  died,  but  the  other 
ultimately  recovered.  The  command  remained  a 
day  on  the  battlefield  and  then  proceeded  with  the 
captured  prisoners  and  animals  to  the  nearest  mili- 
tary post  on  the  line  of  the  Union  Pacific  railroad 
for  further  instructions  and  additional  supplies. 

Summit  Springs,  the  scene  of  this  engagement, 
was  a  noted  camping  ground  for  immigrant  and  gov- 
ernment teams  on  the  overland  trail  to  California, 


152  The  Battle  of  Summit  Springs,  Neb. 

and  was  located  near  the  Platte  river  on  the  west 
boundary  line  between  Colorado  and  Nebraska,  the 
conformation  being  basin-shaped  with  a  high  rim 
surrounding  which  concealed  the  spring  from  ob- 
servation. 

This  campaign  and  engagement  resulted  in  ridding 
the  frontier  borders  of  these  states  of  hostile  Indians 
and  bringing  peace  to  the  distracted  settlers. 

E.  M.  HAYES, 
Brigadier  General  U.  S.  A. 


